OVRCMPNSTN
by beeskneesDeductions
Summary: Dave and Dirk Strider are the coolest of the cool. Who knew that underneath those tinted shades, they have a constant battle to keep their facade? Series of oneshots targetted at various 'uncool' issues the Striders have been forced into by fanfictions.
1. ASTHM

1  
>ASTHM<p>

**A/N: So uh, sup. Long time no write? I know most of you are Hetalia readers, and I appreciate that so much! I promise y'all, I'll keep at least three of my stories going. For now, though, I sincerely warn you that I will be uploading a lot of Homestuck. But I am pretty sure that's okay because I've noticed a lot of Hetalians are also Homestuckians?**

**Anyway, brief summary of what the hell this piece of shit is: basically, OVCMPNSTN was born when I decided I wanted to write a series of oneshots about the various different reasons Dave (or Dirk) would have to act cool as overcompensation (OVRCMPNSTN) for. Generally, the titles will in fact be written without vowels :/ But it's usually stated what the balls is going down somewhere in the beginning in the chapter. And while most of these I don't have myself, I know someone who can help me with the finer details of, say, diabetes or Scoliosis (here's a spoiler: only one of those will actually show up.)**

**Asthma, however, is a bitch I have personal experience with. Anyway, enjoy! And be sure to click subscribe if you like the idea of Striders being just as normal as everyone else.**

[+]

Dave Strider was a cool kid. Sometimes, his best friend-who-happened-to-be-a-chick (because best bro was reserved for John Egbert), Teresa Pyrone would call him that rather than his name. Usually, though, it was just a fact of life.

Sometimes, when Dave was home alone, as was common, and he let his facade fall for a while, he'd find it hilarious how he had come to be seen as one by the student body at his high school. He did the things cool kids did. Missed loads of school but passed, dangling by a C. Skipped gym. Was most teachers' favorite and rarely got in trouble when he refused to participate in activities. He was so high up the popularity heirarchy, that his God Tier could be King of Cool.

Except that would be stupid because god tier isn't a thing that normal people have, and Dave was normal.

Or at least, those who knew, tried to convince him as much.

[+]

Teresa and Dave were the only two present that day for gym. Often, kids who didn't have to participate were free to go to the library and get on the computers. Teresa and him were the only ones who had decided to skip out on a chance to peruse the interwebs.

Dave was leaning back in the upper seats of the gym's stands, where fans usually sat during the school's basketball games. His hands were behind his head, his feet kicked up on the seat below him. His eyes were closed behind his shades, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Only Teresa, with her hyper-active senses due to lack of eyesight, and her close proximity, was able to detect the subtle wheeze underneath his breething.

Teresa Pyrone, with her retro red-tinted shades, messy brown hair, and legal blind status, would normally have been an easy target for vebal bullying. However, she was a surgeon when it came to smacking people with her cane, and was generally labeled as "batshit insane."

The friendship was born from a simple compliment of her shades one gym period in the library. She paused in her chalk drawing, took a deep breath in and out of her nose, and, without turning to face him, said "Red's the most delicious color. Anything so deliciously candy-apple is automatically something I like, hehehe." Her tone implied so much that Dave, with his candy-apple eyes, decided he'd continue the conversation.

She was sitting behind his seat, on the floor above his row. Her legs were crossed and she was leaning against Dave, back to back, and had previously been mouthing gleefully as she toyed with her scalemate keychains. However, at this moment, she was frowning.

"It's pretty hot today, don't you think, Cool Kid?"

He knew what she was implying. He didn't show it. " 'Course it is, TZ, where do you think we are, fucking Canada?" Dave snorted, folding his hands across his stomach.

She rolled her eyes, her voice even more sharp next she spoke. "Is your asthma acting up? I know it gets pretty bad around this temperature."

He mentally winced. "I'm fine, Teresa, fuck."

"Objection."

"The judge overrules you objection, Miss Redglare."

"Dave I will tattle, I will call Dirk right now and tell him you are dying and you KNOW he will drag you home by your banana creamsicle hair." It was a little more than embarassing that Bro always handed out his number to Dave's friends. If they didn't know about Dave's asthma, Dirk would simply say it was for 'just in case.' He couldn't really hold a grudge against Bro for it, though, since after John broke his wrist and Jade had panicked without knowing what to do, John's dad made sure Rose, Dave, and Jade had his number memorized.

Dave groaned, tiling his head back, blonde resting on brunnette. "TZ, shit, it's just a little pressure. Bronchial tubes tightening and all that shit. I doubt a little extra sun will murder me."

She grins in thought, swinging her keychain around her finger. "I wonder how that would hold up in court, hehehe."

"I believe you have a few questions for the accused, Legislator Redglare?" Dave was game for a little verbal roleplaying. It, naturally, meant he could divert the conversation away from this unsavory topic.

"Mister Sun, although deliciously lemon flavored, I believe you to have murdered dear Dave Strider. As many may know, lemon does not taste well with strawberry and banana. Where were you at eight-twenty AM two weeks ago?"

"Hey, wait wait wait, why the fuck am I some feminine smoothie?" Dave frowned, sitting back up and opening his eyes. Teresa cackled behind him, turning to sit on her knees and sling her arms around Dave's shoulders.

"You make me want to go to Braum's every time I smell you, David. You are the most delicious of strawberry banana smoothies." Teresa leaned down and dragged her tongue across his cheek.

"Fuck, TZ, don't start this."

She flicked her tongue across his freckled nose. "With caramel sprinkles."

"TZ, I swear to gog—"

She grinned and stuck her tongue out, practically crawling on top of Dave in an attempt to get at his shades, which he defended with his life. The two were practically sprawled over the seats by the time John Egbert returned from the library. "…most delectable of black licorice, Dave, you have to let me have just one taste!" Teresa was half-whining, half-cackling.

"Teresa, no, no one touches the shades, not even the best of girl _friends_."

John grinned. By now, he knew that the emphasis on friend meant Dave was far too occupied to think of a better way to word himself.

"Oh wow, Dave, you finally admitted that you and Teresa are a thing?" John asked, walking up to them, blue-casted wrist stuffed inside his hoodie pocket. Teresa snickered and used Dave's shock to her advantage, tonguing Dave's glasses.

Dave groaned, giving up, simply laying there awkwardly across two seats. "Forget it, the sun can go ahead and murder me." John was confused, but he chalked the sentence up to The Big Secret that Teresa Knows but Not John. The two of them tended to refer to it alot.

Teresa looked affronted and slapped Dave's shoulder. "I will call Dirk. He is my speed dial three."

Dave frowned. "It's still gross how you and him are friends."

Teresa rolled her eyes and John laughed as the bell rang for next period. "But Dave, Bro and me are friends, too!"

"You both watch enjoy watching lame movies, that's different."

Teresa had pulled out her phone, holding it out to Dave. "Don't make me push call. So help me, I will, Cool Kid."

Dave snorted as he stood up to finally leave the gym. "Fine, TZ. I take back saying I wish a ball of gas, in a galaxy far, far away, would murder me."

"Dave, the sun isn't the same as Star Wars."

"Egbert, I swear—"

[+]

As the day progressed, however, the temperature only rose. Dave started walking slower in the halls between passing periods, lest any remote level of exercise aggravated his asthma even worse.

One or two teachers called him up to speak out in the hall about his tardy, while the class was preoccupied. However, Dave simply had to say the magic words "trouble breathing because of the stupid heat," and they gave him that understanding look that always felt like pity. His niece, Rose Lalonde, gave him that same look during lunch when he said to their little group of friends that he'd prefer to stay inside than the courtyard.

Rose was one of the few people who knew he had asthma despite him not wanting them to. Teachers? If they knew, he got out of having to sit under heaters and was allowed an infinite amount of trips to the water fountain out in the hall. Teresa? Well, she generally stroked his ego more when he was having mild difficulties, and knowing she could call Bro if Dave had an asthma attack generally eased his mind. Bro and their sister (although she was older than Almost Thirty Dirk), Roxy? They knew how to administer his inhaler or, if need be, a breathing treatment, and had the equipment for such an occaision on hand.

But Rose?

She came with the knowledge and none of the progeleges, plus an extra pinch of pity. Her and Bro had been the only ones in the surviving Lalonde-Strider family who had escaped the asthma genetics. Most likely through her mother, she had found out the true reason Dave despised the summer, besides simple temperature discomfort.

"Would you like me to call Mother?" She questioned while she stood with him by the vending machines. Her, Jade, and John all had daily packed lunches, while Dave received a twenty to last him the week.

He focused on the buttons of the soda machine as if he was a seven-year-old Mexican girl, not sure if snow shoes or a snorkel would benefit her and her monkey companion to navigate a magic castle better. Finally, he practically punched the topmost button, and a Diet Sprite tumbled down to the tray. While it tasted like shit, it was the lesser of the many evils that the public school system served under the guise of "healthy and delicious carbonated drinks." Rose sighed and crossed her arms as he proceeded to continue ignoring her, repeating the heavy debate of what to get from the packaged goods machine.

Dave looked up, a sarcastic look of shock on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you had asked me a bullshit question. Clearly I was mistaken."

Rose sighed again, the look of pity now buried under distaste and muted concern. "You do realize that our friends connect through the rumor mill, yes?"

He faltered as he moved to punch in D6, his finger hovering over the numberpad. However, he punched in the digit with determinsion after a moment of thought. "Teresa wouldn't blab to people about me. She kept Vasquez's albinism under wraps until he spilled the beans himself."

"I hope you recall that Carson Vasquez had been her boyfriend at the time."

"Are you implying my best friend in the dame department will sell my soul to the highest bidder simply because we don't have sloppy make-outs under the bleachers during football games? Because, ask John, she was damn close today."

Rose sighed and held up her hands in surrender. "Strider, I will let this topic drop simply because we have wandered away from more important matters. Teresa told Veronica Spinneret, who told Terrence Nilsam, who told Gamzee Makara, who told Carson Vasquez, who told Anaya Mirian, who informed me that you 'tasted like stale air and rotten fruit all morning because of the heat.'"

Dave raised an eyebrow without looking at her, preoccupied with deciding whether a rice crispie treat and bottle full of liquid nausea would sate him until he could order take-out that night. "Any time Carson or Veronica get pissy, she says the same color-coded shit. Which, by the way, is fucking always." They began heading back towards their table, where John was pretending to have not been curiously eyeing the Stri-Lal family, and was attempting to immerse himself in the amiable story Jade was chattering on about.

Dave rolled his eyes. John was obvious.

"Well. My offer still stands, and you know you can call hers yourelf any time you may need her."

Dave snorted, but said nothing until they sat back at the table. "Ever need the drunken broad? No thanks, yo."

[+]

Dave's class period after lunch was hellish. As soon as he stepped inside, his facade broke for a moment and he felt the oncoming dread that generally accompanied more-than-mild chest pressure. It only got worst as the minutes dragged on, breathing becoming more and more difficult.

Heat-induced asthma was a horrible thing to bless upon a baby born in Houston, Texas. At first a simple shortness of breath, Dave could feel his control on the situation quickly spiraling out of his grasp. He was close to hyperventilating, which was something he knew would only make things worse. He had to keep his cool. The whole reason Bro had taught him to keep his cool was this right here. Fear led to panic led to hyperentilating led to no air intake led to asthma attack. And his fast-acting inhaler was on his dresser at home.

Fuck Bro for making Dave attempt to get to school on time. Fuck him up the goddamm ass with a spiked metal-smuppet's nose.

It was becoming blatantly obvious that he wouldn't survive twenty more minutes of broken air conditioning. He pulled out his cell phone as slyly as possible in his condition and quickly shot out a text to Teresa, the only number he had on speed-dial sans John.

[+]

Teresa was in the library, doing her library aid duties, which consisted of absolutely nothing, when her phone vibrated. She frowned, pulling it out and opening up the read-aloud app, sliding her bluetooth into her ear.

"One new message from Pink Banana Kool Aid. Read?" Teresa rolled her eyes. Dave was going to get in trouble texting her during class.

Nevertheless, she held her phone to her mouth and spoke. "Yes." Her voice command repeated "yes?" to her, confirming what it heard. Teresa did nothing for a moment, which the program accepted as confirmation.

"Message sent one minute ago. Reads 'tee zee call bro.' Respond?" Teresa frowned, curious and slightly worried.

"One new message received. Message from Pink Banana Kool Aid, sent two seconds ago. Read?"

"Yes."

"Message sent five seconds ago. Reads 'please'. Respond?"

Dave said please. Cool Kids never said please.

"Speed-dial number three."

"Would you like to call Mister Orange Creamsicle?"

Teresa never hated the fact she was blind. She had been this way most of her life, ever wince a childhood accident involving a magnifying glass, the sun, and one Miss Veronica Spinneret. Her mother was blind herself, and Teresa soon found she was gifted with color hypersensitivity.

Being blind was part of being Teresa, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Sometimes, however, her voice command program felt like a handicap she could do without.

[+]

By the chain of events that was the clusterfuck of bad luck, Dirk Strider wasn't able to take off work. He gave Teresa Roxy's number and told her to have her pick Dave up.

After it was all said and done, it only took two minutes for Dave to receive three texts. Teresa, informing him "H3LP 1S ON TH3 W4Y D4V3," Roxy, telling him she'd "swong by witnin a few min h oney xoxxo," and Rose declaring, "Mother has informed me that I must come and retreive you from class to supervise your condition out in the hall. Remain calm, Strider, and try to hold off on losing respiratory abilities until you are safely in Mother's care."

He was close to doing the exact thing Rose told him not to do. The longer he dwelled on his difficulty breathing, the more close to panicking he was. He flexed his fingers on his desk, the skin under his fingernails beginning to gain a faint blue hue. Rose appeared within the minute of her response, a pass in her hands. The teacher let him be excused, and it took nearly all of Dave's remaining strength to not abscond at the speed of lightning.

After Rose lead him as close to the front doors of the school as possible, speaking kind and calm words of encouragement and basic asthma advice, they finally stopped in the hall that contained the front office, where Roxy would have to go to check Dave out of school. Dave practically collapsed on the floor, his lips blue and his breath coming in gasps despite the halls' slightly cooler temperature, and with Rose's help was able to sit leaning against the wall. As Rose tried and failed to get Dave to breathe in and out, the professional sound of heels on hard flooring was to be heard, and within moments, Rose's mother was instructing Rose to get Dave standing.

The sight of her helped him calm down enough to stand and make it outside, but as the sudden barrage of heat hit him as he left the barely air-conditioned school, he began hyperventilating. He was barely able to walk, much less to her car, which felt miles away, despite being parked at the curb a few feet away.

Roxy scooped him up and carried him to her car, despite the fact he was a sixteen-year-old boy fueled by pizza and apple juice. She didn't bother buckling in, instead tucking him into the back seat and instructing him to focus on breathing. The car ride was a blur of brisk driving and Rose's mother instructing him to breathe in and out.

Panic was not something easily quelled once it began, and Dave was barely getting air into his lungs. Each breath was like sucking molasses through a straw, and he was swimming on the fringes of consciousness.

Dave couldn't remember how it happened, but he found himself sitting by Rose's front door, the faint whir of a nebulizer from beside him. Roxy was kneeling in front of him, and she informed him, slurred but stern, that he had to open his mouth.

He obeyed, and the cool and humid taste of albuterol flowed across his tongue the second he breathed in after wrapping his lips around the mouthpiece.


	2. BLND

2  
>BLND<p>

**A/N: Heads up. While the story doesn't have any specific pairing or plot correlation unless otherwise stated, this chapter here has some Dave/Terezi. Typed it before the intermission after Act Six, and in honor of Karkat's argument with Dave, decided to update.**

[+]

When all was said and done at the end of the day, Dave was not a normal kid. And not even because of his status as cool kid.

It was just hard to consider yourself normal when you were blind.

Laying on his bed after dumping his bag by the door, music already playing from his computer's speakers, eyes closed, Dave thought about his life. At age five, Bro's, Dave's, and Roxy's mother died. Roxy's daughter (Bro and Dave's niece), a young girl Dave's age named Rose, had been more sad than Dave had. Which was saying something, considering Rose had read during the entire funeral.

Dirk had taken care of Dave from age one to then, because their mother was generally off doing her own thing. Roxy had already moved out and, through a divorced marriage, had Rose to take care of. However, Roxy and Dirk had spent their childhoods with their mother, and before she bore Dave and then abandoned her family, she had supposedly been a wonderful woman. It was hard to believe as such, when the entire situation sounded to Dave like she didn't even want her own fucking child.

At age five, Roxy and Dirk were in the living room of Roxy's house, and while they were crying and boozing it up, Dave had found his way into the kitchen cabinets. It was only Dave's screaming and Rose's yelling for help that cut Roxy and Dirk's mourning short. Apparently, never having cleaning products in their apartment was sometimes a bad thing, because Dave had never been taught by Bro that bleach was not a thing to be played with. After spending pre-school and kindergarten at home with Dirk, figuring things out and learning from scratch how to manuever the apartment, as well as how to read braille and walk without needing a cane, Dave felt ready for school.

Granted, elementary school was spent at a school for the blind and deaf. Dave easily became best friends with another girl in his second grade class, with his charm and all-around cool evening out Teresa Pyrone's wild and over-bearing behavior. Teachers figured out that Teresa didn't creep Dave out with her sniffing and licking, and soon they were officially switched to being each other's class partners.

They were placed into a "normal" middle school in the sixth grade, where Dave easily trumped the social heirarchy with his dark shades and cool attitude. Teresa got dragged along with him up the popularity chain, nothing she minded, but soon it became obvious where their similarities ended.

They both loved drawing, usually with the most horrendous of colors. They both loved music, despite their cotnradicting tastes. They both wore shades, they both had guardians that were rarely there, they even both had homes filled with way too many plush creations.

They both were blinded by a childhood accident.

But Teresa Pyrone, with her retro red shades and whip-like cane, was perfectly fine with herself, and even proud of her inability to see.

Dave Strider, was not.

He didn't make it an obvious fact during school, with some of his teachers not even knowing about his lack of sight. Teresa, the ever good best friend that she was, kept his secret for him. They had all the same classes, which wasn't shocking since their classes had been specially picked to be manageable, where the paperwork was rare and their textbooks were just props. Everyone thought that Dave, with one hand holding Teresa's and the other stuffed in his pocket, was simply walking with his blind girlfriend to class. No one even realized that it was one blind girl leading her blind best friend around the school, because she wasn't too full of herself to use a cane.

When high school came around, Bro and Roxy put their heads together to create a cell phone GPS app for Dave's iPhone. When orientation came around and Teresa had to tag along with them because her mother had a meeting with her client in prison, teachers thought that Dirk was simply a disrespectful parent, spending the entire time fiddling around with his phone. What they didn't realize was he was inputting each of Dave's classes, key location landmarks like his locker and the boys' bathrooms, and his schedule onto Dave's phone so that Dave wouldn't be completely helpless the days Teresa wasn't there.

Gone were the days of hand-holding and discussing their shitty comics. Although Teresa would still sometimes walk with him, since they had the same schedule like always, he was mostly on his own.

With the app, Dave could maneuver the halls with his earbuds in, listening to the sound files Dirk, Roxy, Rose, and Teresa recorded for his program. It was sometimes frustrating to hear his Bro suddenly yell, "You fucking moron, turn around, you walked right past the damn door!" or Rose remind him that "Class starts in three minutes, Strider, pick up the pace."

But usually, each walk to class was spent with Dave frustrated that all he had of Teresa each walk to class was "Turn left, and watch out for the stairs. I warned you about the stairs, Cool Kid, hehehe."

He missed Teresa.

Dave didn't think he was ever capable of loving someone romantically, but damn, how he was jealous of how much Carson Vasquez hogged Teresa for himself.

He could understand why Teresa liked "KK" so much. The guy was tough on the outside and soft on the inside, a candy pun just waiting to happen, and one Teresa wouldn't pass up the chance of.. Easily, she could disable his anger by simply taking one of his off-handed comments and turning it into something it wasn't, acting offended when he let slip a "Sometimes, it's so aggravating that you fucknuts don't even see what the hell is going on around you!" while discussing how stupid the school's student body was.

Yes, Carson Vasquez, with his schizophrenia and easy submission, was a toy Teresa would want to play with.

Dave opened his eyes once more, and just like every other time before, his world was still dark.

[+]

When Dave, sitting in the courtyard during lunch, listening to music on his iPhone, felt Teresa slink her arms around his shoulders and lay her head on his shoulder, he wasn't surprised. "I'm assuming Vasquez is busy yelling Makara's ear off," he commented off-handedly, turning down his music slightly.

She paused for a moment, silent, then spoke. "Actually, he's busy making out with his new girlfriend. The one who smells like dog and neon green limeade."

Dave lost thought, before quickly back-pedalling and pulling his headphones out of his ears, music completely forgotten. "What. Fuck, where's the little asshole, I'll kick his ass right now." And, Dave be damned, he would. Didn't the idiot realize that he was generally most of what Teresa talked about?

Dave would pound Caraon Vasquez into the asphalt, and Bro would probably help. When Teresa's mother, a hotshot lawyer despite her similarly odd—but more restrained—habit of tasting and smelling the world around her, was busy at her office over a case, and Carson's dad was back from a missionary so Carson was spending time with him, Teresa would have nowhere to go after school. Bro would generally take off work early to keep an eye on her, sometimes even if Dave wouldn't be home. Despite how Dave was uncomfortable with it, Teresa and Dirk were friends, and anyone who's hurt her, well, they can expect a complimentary Strider beatdown from Dirk.

Teresa chuckled, forcing most of her weight on his back when he attempted to stand. "Cool Kid, calm down. You're acting like he ran off behind my back with another woman."

"But he did, obviously."

"Dave, you are so stupid, Carson and I broke up on Monday."

That floored Dave just as much as the initial declaration had. His best friend had been broken up with, and he was only finding out four days later? Dave couldn't help but feel his cool mask fracture a little as he realized he was probably the worst best friend ever, too busy pining for his best friend to even care to find out how her and her boyfriend were doing. "Oh. I'm…sorry." Dave didn't know what to do. Had it been long enough that she didn't need comfort? Or did she want hugs, comforting words, or a shoulder to cry on?

"Cool Kid, for someone who tastes like strawberry ice cream, you suck at comforting, hehehe. How about I make this easy? I'm sleeping over at your apartment tonight and we are going to listen to weepy movies and draw shitty comics and walk around the city and get Bro to bake caramel apples and cookies for dinner."

"Wow, TZ, way to invite yourself over. What if Bro doesn't want to bake cookies and isn't okay with a chick ruining the sanctity of the man-cave."

"I already texted him about it."

Dave would murder Bro.

"What if _I_ wasn't okay with you ruining the sanctity of the man-cave."

Teresa snorted and licked his cheek. "Too bad."

Well, good thing Dave wasn't opposed to spending his time with his best friend.

[+]

It had been quite a few years since co-gender sleepovers were socially allowed between the two. Last time either of them had slept at each other's house, Teresa and Dave were nine and neither Ms. Pyrone nor Bro had been aware of it until the kids had already fallen asleep.

So when Bro personally came to pick them up after school, Dave was more than a little on edge. Only Bro could tell that Dave's facade was slipping. "So, lil man, do I need to put a deadbolt on the bathroom door?"

"What. No. Why."

"Dave, face it, at some point in time, TZ is going to want to take a shower. Presumably after the make-overs. I'm sure she doesn't want you being a peeping tom."

"Oh my gog. Why would you even…" It was only after he spoke that he realized it was a jab at his eyesight. Teresa was cackling while Dave began to plan Bro's murder. Maybe Teresa's mom would be up for being his lawyer. Not likely, since the Pyrones were big on justice.

"Bro, don't tease Dave! He has had a very rough day, especially with finding out _my_ boyfriend broke up with _me_."

"Hey, I was just sharing your pain."

Bro snorted from the front seat as he drove out of the school parking lot and began the drive to their apartment building. "So, how has your GPS been?" His tone was casual, but Dave could recognize that Dirk was more than a little interested.

"So it was you. Gogdammit, Bro, TZ had to walk me around like a dog after it crashed."

Teresa cackled. "Ooh, is Bro pleading guilty?"

Dirk snorted once more. "Bull. For your information, our sister is to be blamed."

"Objection," Dave stated blankly.

Terezi giggled. "Judge Cherryglare recognizes Dave's objection. Please continue, Mr. Strawberry Soda."

Dave paused a moment to smirk slightly at the never ending nicknames, even though Teresa couldn't see it. "I believe Dirk to be guilty due to lack of evidence for his case. Would Bro like to fess up and plead guilty?"

"Dave, she hacked my computer and now it's frozen with the message 'The Roge is bozz, your shit id wrecked' in pink." Sometimes Dave was jealous of how bored Dirk seemed to be with everything. If Roxy had royally fucked up his means of making money, Dave would pirouette off the handle.

"Clever how your only evidence is conveniantly something the court can not read, Mister Orange Sherbert!" Teresa called.

Bro's phone rang as they pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot. "Yo."

Dave rolled his eyes and unbuckled, hearing Teresa already doing the same. They were halfway out the car when Bro said, "Yeah, you can talk to him."

Dave found a phone thrust into his hands. He held it up to his ear. "Sup?"

"Daaaave?" Roxy crooned. Dave could hear Bro unbuckling and shutting the car off.

Dave sighed as Teresa began lightly kicking his back. Dave's door was the only one that worked in the backseat. "Speaking."

"I jus' wanted ta say sorry I broke yer GPS app, but I had ta 'cause Dirk an' me are in this haxxing—hacking—war an'—"

"Naww, it's fine, Roxy. I can understand wanting to piss off Bro."

"Oh. 'Kay."

"Is that all?" Teresa had begun trying to grab his glasses.

"Yeah. Wait, no, remember ta use protefkin—protection—sweetie."

Dave hung up on her and threw the phone at Bro, who laughed and presumably caught it. "Judge Cherryglare, the jury finds Dirk not guilty of any charges except being an inssufferable prick."

"The court recognizes the jury's verdict. Any words from the accused?"

"Guilty as charged," Dirk said, finally pulling Dave out of the car by his collar. "Let the lady out of the car, douche."

"Hey, I'm blind, you can't expect me to know what I'm doing, Bro."

As the three of them made the journey to the Strider abode, Teresa kept "accidentally" whacking Dave's legs with her cane. He had a feeling it was her way of saying "you wouldn't be so helpless, Cool Kid, if you'd just use a cane!"

[+]

Dave was the judge when it came to deciding what they would do first with their day. Naturally, Dirk and Teresa were the jury, and Dave had to follow with their verdict. Cookies and caramel coated apples came first, the cookies supposedly made with red food dye, according to Teresa, and the apples made with those little caramel sheets that they sold at the dollar store. After that, Dave and Teresa listened to Twilight, with Dirk narrating what the actors were doing. ("No facial expressions. None whatsoever." "He sparkles? Gaaaaaay." "I'll admit, the whole 'money, sex, money, sex, cats' line is kind of amusing.")

They only had three hours left of sunlight, so it was soon decided to go out and about the city, chaperoned by Bro to make sure they didn't get run over. Teresa apparently smelled the garish colors of a playground, because soon she was leading the way through pebbles and sand. She was cackling, dragging Dave to the swings while Bro opted to sit on the benh, surfing the web on his phone. Teresa started up a little verbal roleplay, before it turned into full-out LARPing, Teresa chasing Dave around with her cane, screaming about how justice must be served no matter how delicious his eyes and hair were.

If there had been any one else at he park, Dave could understand why they would've left by then.

[+]

Dave and Teresa soon ended up laying on the merry-go-round, Teresa sticking out her cane every so often to make sure they didn't stop their lazy spinning. Dave was lost in his thoughts as she chattered about this and that, something about chalk and how her mother bought it for her during Take-Your-Child to work day when Teresa was three. Dave frowned as something clicked.

"That was before you were blind, wasn't it?"

Teresa titterred. "Duh, Cool Kid."

He mulled his words over carefully before speaking. "And you don't miss it."

"Dave, you don't have to pretend to be swag or whatever bull you'd describe yourself as. Bro left a while ago to get dinner from McDonald's."

"What. Fuck, he left two blind kids alone at the park without saying anything? Parent of the year, it is him."

She cackled, smacking his forehead with her cane. "He did, you were too busy moping to listen when he came over to tell us."

"…Bull."

She giggled, and she rolled onto her side, facing him. He could feel her breath on his face as she spoke. "And was that your real question or were you leaving details out?"

"What."

"I believe you asked if I miss being able to see, hero."

He closed his eyes, a habit that he kept from when closing his eyes helped him focus. "I would like an answer to that, yeah." _No, I want to know how you can deal with it._

Teresa chuckled. "Well, then no. Back then, I didn't really have an opinion on blindness. I mean, I was three. I probably would've wanted to be able to see if I had been given the choice, but right now? No, not really."

"But…why."

"All of the reasons, Dave. All of them."

"And?" He was kind of tired how she strung things along for full dramatic effect. But he did the same, and she'd probably picked it up from him, so he couldn't really blame her.

"Well, back then, I could only sense colors through sight. And, believe it or not, pink was my favorite color." He snorted. She had always had such a boner for the color red for the entirety of their friendship that it was hard to imagine her liking its weaker cousin. "Now? It tastes like pink lemonade, bluh. Apples and strawberries and cherries are way better."

"Is that the only reason?" It wasn't helping his case much. He never had and never would have her hypersensitivity.

"No. It helps a lot that my mom is blind. She taught me how to see the world through my senses and, hehehe, you know how much I want to be like my mom. It helps so much that she's blind and still the best lawyer at the firm." Dave nodded. He could sympathize with wanting to be just like your parental figure. Too bad his role model was able to see.

"Plus, I never would've been best friends with you if I hadn't been blind."

Dave snorted, even though his stomach was twisting up in knots. "Bull. Teresa Pyrone, never say that again because you are the coolest fucking chick in the city and even if I wasn't blind, I would easily pick you up on my swagdar."

She snickered. "I'm pretty sure we're only such good friends because you became immune to me tasting your delicious caramel-and-vanilla-ice-cream skin at such a young age."

"TZ, that is the dirtiest thing you have ever said, ever."

She giggled, flicking her tongue across his cheek. "You taste like strawberry milk right now, though. I maaade the Cool kid bluuuuush," she sang, spinning the merry-go-round a little faster than she had originally been.

Dave rolled his eyes, easily pulling his cool kid facade back in place, forcing the blood out of his face. "Breath a word of it to Bro, and I will serve your head on a platter to Ms. Pyrone."

Teresa cackled, but soon their world was quiet, both of them now knee's deep in thought. "Dave," she finally said after a few moments of listening to birds and cars.

"Sup."

"Why do you miss seeing?"

He snorted, letting it roll right over his cool kid facade. "Because it is mortifying having to let Bro pick out what I wear." She scoffed.

"I probably look lame every day. I just wear whatever is most delicious. Judge Cherryglare does not recognize your claim as legally withstanding." Dave rolled his eyes. "Besides, wouldn't you miss having better senses?"

Dave had to admit, he'd miss being a music god. Bro had verbally acknowledged that Dave was "pretty good with the turntables for a little snot." That was like receiving the nobel prize. "Sound? Sure. Never really had any reason for anything else, though." Taste? No, pizza and chinese take-out didn't really cater to that very well. Smell? If anything, if made a bachelor's pad in the middle of summer even more unbearable.

Touch? Well, he wasn't exacty rolling in girlfriends to mack on him, even though he probably could be. But keeping his lack of eyesight underwraps was a full-time gig. Plus, crushing on your best friend, who had until recently been off-limits, was a full-time thing as well.

"Not even touch? Cool Kid, please, you are the lady's man, it is you."

Dave rolled his eyes, frowning slightly. It was always a little off-putting when her and him thought about the same thing.

"Oh my gog, Dave, I can feel the disagreement practically dripping off of you. You haven't even kissed anyone since you rubbed bleach in your eyes?"

"On accident. My eye itched and I didn't know that splashing in a puddle of bleach and then rubbing your eyes was bad." The situation was getting out of hand, and fast.

"You haven't! Oh my gog, Dave, so uncool."

"TZ, shut up, at least I didn't let Veronica hold a magnfying glass at my eyes in broad daylight." Immediately, he felt like he'd been puched in the gut.

Dick move, Dave. He could practically feel Dirk's disappointment in him. _Good job, kid, insult the blind girl. That's definitely something you do to the girl who calls you hero. _She was silent, and Dave felt bad. He felt so extremely bad. He turned to face her, opening his mouth to speak. "TZ, fuck, I shouldn't have said that, Veronica's a bitch and I—"

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

(_Why is she kissing me there is no way she's kissing me after that douchebag bull I just pulled what THE FUCK is going ON._)

Fireworks exploded in his head, something he didn't even remember seeing before age five. He just knew that the faint explosion of light was exactly that.

For two teenagers in the tenth grade, they were pretty bad kissers. Teresa was all tongue while Dave was pretty sure his lips were doing the entirely wrong thing, and their teeth and glasses clacked together so many times that it soon became a metronome for their sloppy make-out, but Dave didn't care.

Teresa tasted like caramel apples, cookies, and a taste that was entirly her own, the closest example on record being blueberry muffins. He could feel her breath across his skin, hot and slightly quickened. He could smell the soap of her hair, eucalyptus because she probably loved the smell. Her skin, this close, was suddenly an explosion of scents.

He recognized the heavy, sweet smell of the liquid, butter-scotch-like soap she used, because she had shoved it in his face earlier that day when she was unpacking, as well as what was simply Eua de Teresa. She smelt like spring, and lime salt water taffy, and cherry blossoms, and forests.

And how he felt. Her lips were soft, and everything was wet. Despite the teeth clacking and the sensory overload, he suddenly realized why she was so strung up on her senses. Kissing was probably twenty percent hotter when you could bask in everything that was uniquely the other person.

They finally pulled away when breathing became impossible, Dave's heart thudding in his chest and the roof of his mouth tingling. He closed his eyes, rolling onto his back, unable—for the first time in his life—to figure out what to say. For a few moments, he had understood what it was to sense colors, because Teresa was her own unique shade of aquamarine. Teresa was giggling, a small titter slowly escalating to full-out cackling. "You are the worst kisser ever, Cool Kid, it is you."

"Hey, hey, I wasn't expecting to be attacked by my best friend _who's boyfriend broke up with her_." Was mentioning her ex-boyfriend allowed after making out with your best friend? Probably not.

She snorted, both of them too high in ecstacy to be offended by the other's words. "Dave, we broke up by mutual agreement." He didn't really have words for that, at least not in the state he was in. "He was clingy, waaaay too jealous over everything."

"Why? You never shut up about him the rare moments you blessed me with your presence." His sarcasm didn't affect her, which he was thankful for. Sloppy-make-out etiquette was not a thing he excelled at.

"I never shut up about _you_ around _him_, stupid. When he broke it off, he was the one who told me to go try to hang out with you. 'Even I, despite distaste in your stupid fucking choice in douchebags, can see a good match between two idiots, without the influence of bias,'" she imitated, her voice scratchy in an attempt to mimic Carson's ever-present anger.

"Dude, if my girlfriend was all up in another guy's business, I would flip my shit. How does anyone take him seriously."

Teresa snickered, pressing her forehead against his and humming. "Good thing I won't be all up in another guy's business, because the metaphorical shit should not be flipped in this scenario."

"I would fucking fly off the handle, you don't even—" His brain finally processed her words. "What. Way to automatically assume we're a thing, Teresa, what if after that horrendous macking I didn't want to date you."

Teresa chuckled, licking his nose. "Too bad."

Well, good thing Dave wasn't opposed to spending his time making out with his best friend.


	3. BRCS

3  
>BRCS<p>

**A/N: IMPORTANT! If you are interested about some of the more subtle parts of this story, such as family relationships, etc. then I would recommend hopping over to my tumblr and checking out the OVRCMPNSTN page. My tumblr is aggrievvestrife; just go to aggrievestrife dot tumblr dot com slash ovrcmpnstn.**

**Oh my gog the titles of all of these are so short and unintelligible. So, uh, a lot of my stories were on my iPod. And I was at my aunt's house, which _would_ mean I had perfect internet connection. But no. My iPod died. And I didn't get my hands on a charger until after I got home.**

**So I decided to work on this and work on getting it updated rather than moping. And also, this is the only chapter that needed updating, that I hadn't already written.**

**Chapter warnings: Dave/John. Also, some Daddy-Egbert/Bro Strider evil bonding derived from teasing their family members. Enjoy!**

[+]

Dave ran his tongue along his teeth, jaw slack as he slouched on the futon, his legs, torso, and arms resting on the coffee table. His head was the only thing sitting up, one hand over his stomach while the other boredly flicked through the channels via duct-taped remote.

As commonplace as it was, Dave still had to pass off his wince as intentional movement when Bro randomly spoke from behind him on the couch.

"You wouldn't happen to remember what we did half a year from yesterday, would you, Lil Dude?" Dave moved his arms upward, pretending to stretch.

"Kicking ass?"

"Language, kid." Bro boredly spoke as he jumped over the back of the futon, smoothly landing beside Dave. It was a bit of a running joke in the household. Both of them knew that Dirk didn't give two shits if Dave swore like a sailor. In fact, he was a bit proud of it. Or at least, Dave assumed he was.

Ooey-gooey words of encouragement were like poison to Striders. Dave was pretty sure that was the reason Dirk never actually openly stated any mush.

Bro put his arms behind his head, kicking up his feet on the table. "Sit up, kid, your gonna fuck up your back sitting like that."

"Fuck you."

"I dare you to say that to me again."

Dave rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically as he pulled himself into a normal Strider sitting position.

"So what were we doing yesterday half a year ago?"

"If you must know," Bro started as he reached forward and snatched the remote out of Dave's hand, flipping to My Little Pony, "we were at a dentist appointment."

"Really? Why the fuck would you have dragged me along?"

"Language. And it wasn't my appointment, fucknuts. It was _yours_. And you have another one tomorrow."

"Sweet. No school."

Bro rolled his eyes. "I'll kick your ass if you try to stay up late tonight."

Dave knew that was empty. Bro wouldn't even get home until four in the morning, and that was around the time Dave crashed each night.

Sometimes, Dave wondered if his and Bro's relationship was one big ball of bullshit lies to make both of them feel like Dave wasn't neglected.

Not that he'd care. Striders don't give a fuck about that gross family bull.

Right. Dave Strider didn't wish his brother would pay more attention to him.

Nope.

Not at _all_.

[+]

Most of the drive to the dentist's office the next afternoon was spent making fun of the songs that played on the radio and slapping each other. At one point, Dave had to grab the wheel himself because Bro was too busy attempting to grab Dave's shades. Naturally, they eluded the police well enough, acting the perfect family any time a cop car was nearby. Once out of the vicinity, however, the hair pulling and insults began again.

Bro flirted with the young man who was manning the receptionist desk, who was easily flustered and stumbled over his words as he informed the doctor they were finally there. Almost immediately after Bro finished filling out the forms, they were called back.

Dave spent most of the time on his phone, ignoring Bro as he tried to embarrass Dave by saying he never brushed his teeth, that he poured bleach on his teeth to clean them, that one time he turned his teeth completely black from pigging out on Oreos.

The dentist ignored them both and simply did his job, while Dave texted his best bro via iPhone.

TG: yo  
>TG: fucking dentists man<br>TG: fuck them  
>TG: who needs them?<br>EB: dave what are you even talking about :B  
>TG: fucking dentists<br>TG: bro keeps trying to get the dentist  
>TG: to stab me in the gums<br>TG: or give me that laughing gas shit  
>EB: lame<br>EB: your bro is such a douche  
>TG: i will admit he can be sometimes<br>EB: but dentists can be useful!  
>EB: you might need braces<br>TG: what  
>TG: dude<br>TG: fuck that  
>TG: why would you even say that<br>TG: dont jinx me man  
>EB: you have a pretty nasty overbite dude<br>TG: no i dont  
>TG: fuck you<br>EB: whatever you say, man  
>EB: crap, my dad is baking more cake<br>EB: time to head over to Jake and Janes house  
>TG: see you later man<p>

[+]

Dave was innocently playing Toontown with Jade when it happened.

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkii-_

"Moshi moshi?"

Dave rolled his eyes, leaning farther back in his desk chair, keyboard in his lap as he attempted to keep up with Jade's character, ignoring Bro. Damn, why did he have to leave his door open?

Oh, right, because they ordered pizza and Bro would ignore it until thirty minutes were up unless Dave went and opened the door.

"Excuse me?" Sigh. "He does, I make fun of him for it all the time." Wait... "And how much will this cost? ...Uh-huh...Uh-_huh_..." Wait, wait, wait.

Dave was practically scrambling out of his chair, ignoring the psst of Jade messaging him over toontown about his inactivity. He leaned in his doorway, arms crossed, studying the back of Bro's head over the futon.

"Will insurance cover it? Like, company dental?" Oh, gog, no. "Yeah, I think so. Is it going to be one of those huge bulky head-cage-things? No? Well, _can_ it be? Oh, you guys don't do that anymore? Damn, alright. Yeah, yeah, the tenth is fine."

Dave sincerely hoped he could get away with making plans on the tenth.

Bro calmly tilted his head back, the familiar sense of hair raising on the back of Dave's neck when shaded eyes met shaded eyes. "Sup, Metal Mouth. Something you need?"

Dave wondered if he could vault out of his bedroom window before Bro even knew what happened.

Not likely.

[+]

The eleventh was a Sunday. Dave spent the entire day on the Strider futon, scowling at the TV. Dirk stayed home from his day job waiting tables, instead spending the day alternating between forcing Dave to eat and throwing magnets at his mouth.

Dave's scowl worsened as Dirk sing-songed, "Davey, your little buddy John was worried about you so he called me. Wanna talk to him? I'm sure you two can think of plenty to talk about."

Dave found an orange bedazzled iPhone thrust into his hands. He held it up to his ear, pausing as he attempted to think of a greeting that didn't have any Ss in it. "Yo."

"Hey Dave! Where have you been, man? Rose, Jade and me were all worried about you!"

"Oh really now?"

"Yeah! What have you been up to?"

"Cool ki' thhhenaniganth." _Fuck._

"...Dave?"

"Hm?" Monosyllabic answers it is.

"Did you just...lisp?"

"What are you talking about John, why woul' I lithp." _Abort mission, abort mission!_

He could just hear John snickering on the other end of the phone. "Oh my god. Did you get braces?"

"What. No. Where woul' you even get thomething like that from."

"Oh, man, what color are they? We can be brace buddies!"

Bro's supersonic hearing clearly had no limitations from the other side of the futon, because his lips tilted just slightly upwards and his hand flew to cover the lower half of his face.

"John. 'on't ever thay that again."

"Did I make Bro laugh?" John stage-whispered.

"John I am hanging up. I am hanging up the phone right now, an' never thpeaking to you again."

[+]

The twelfth was a Monday, which meant school. Dave stubbornly kept his mouth clamped shut up until the pep assembly. The other kids assumed he was giving them a taste of what life would be like if he really gave his coolitude all he had. The teachers assumed he was having "family issues" and offerred to discuss matters with Bro.

John laughed every time he saw Dave.

The pep assembly rolled around near the end of the school day. As per usual, Dave skipped out, flashstepping into the boy's bathroom and hanging around there until the teachers were too busy with the assembly. As he ducked out, phone in hand, fully intending to call Bro and ask for a ride home, he nearly bumped into someone.

"Dude, ditching doesn't make you cool."

"You know what elthe ithn't cool, Eg'erp? Ghothbuthterth." List of words to not say until he adjusted to his braces. One: Ghostbusters.

John snickered, easily keeping step as Dave strode out of the school, hands in his pockets. "Soooooooo lame. So where are you going?"

"I wath going to hea' home 'til your lame ath thowe' up. Now I'm jutht going to the library."

"But Dave, that's twenty minutes away from here!"

"No one athke' you to come along, 'oofuth."

With a sigh, John followed behind.

It became obvious John wasn't going to abscond, so Dave continued on to the public library. He supposed he could finally put his (ironic purposes only) library card to use and pick up some children's books. Or maybe something about art history.

As they finally arrived, school possibly already over, their bags over their shoulders, they both couldn't help but relax a little as they stepped out of the hot Texan sun and into the cool air-conditioning of the library. Dave immediately bee-lined towards the manga, deciding that its hidden location at the back of the library was least likely to get them turned into the DA. And also, irony.

And maybe a joke check-out for Bro.

Does Boku no Pico come in manga?

They sat down, leaning against the back-most wall, Dave's eyes lazily scanning the titles, recognizing bedtime stories from his childhood in the manga. John sat beside him, eagerly talking about this and that, just droning on and on.

Every once in a while, Dave would glance over at John, watching how animatedly he spoke about a new game or a specific Betty Crocker product he despised. Dave felt that familiar rhythm in his chest as his heart ached for something off-limits.

Damn John. Damn him with his friendly flirting and overall dorkiness and his constant babbling stream of no-homo, like some sort of demon-worshipping, ritualistic chant. Dave found himself gravitating closer and closer to John, being pulled in by the simple sound of his voice. Amused, he noticed John's eyes continuing to flicker down to his lips, the younger teenager's voice quieting with each inch of distance closed between them.

In the end, it was John that made the first move, dipping forward to press his lips against Dave's. His cheeks were flushed, black eyelashes resting against red skin as he attempted to move his lips in time with Dave's.

Dave scooted closer, one hand gripping John's forearm, the other resting on the slim space of skin between ecto-ghost t-shirt and black cargo shorts. He tilted his head, running his tongue along John's lips, knowing fully well that his best friend, while supposedly immune and new to homosexual encounters, was still fairly well-versed in the language of sloppy make-outs. John pressed their lips closer, head dipping slightly in the opposite direction, deepening the kiss when-

_Clink._

Both of them attempted to pull away, only to have their foreheads rammed bck together. Dave's shades were askew, and for a moment his wide red-irises met John's equally shocked blue.

"Fuck."

"Thith ith not happening," John groaned as he struggled to speak with his upper jaw connected to Dave's, moving his teeth in tiny incriments, attempting to unlock their braces.

"We're fucke'," Dave sighed, trying to lean back onto his palms, only to tug John forward onto him, both of them landing in a painful pile on the floor, their jaws aching.

"'ave! 'on't 'o that, man, ow!" John grimaced from on top of Dave, his elbow digging harshly into the cool kid's ribs.

Working together, they managed to get back into their original positions. Dave and John both pulled out their cell phones, before locking gazes once more. "Try Rothe an' I can try Jake?" John suggested. Dave nodded, opening up his contacts.

TG: hey rose  
>TG: you wouldnt happen to be up for helping me out<p>

TT: I believe you revoked that right when you decided to leave the school premises. Whatever predicament you've found yourself in, I am confident you can manage.

TG: roxy yo you busy

TG: as a matyer of gact i am  
>TG: *matter *fact<br>TG: im dure dirky can hep you swesty  
>TG: *sure *help *sweaty<br>TG: laughing my a off!  
>TG: *sweety<p>

Dave groaned, closing his eyes in frustration. "Any luck, Eg'erp?" John shook his head.

"I can try calling 'ad. 'id you try 'irk?"

Dave snorted. "Yeah, becauth we 'efinitely nee' thomeone to thow up just to kick us while we're 'own." Nevertheless, he shot out a text, calmly stating that if his ass did not appear in the manga section of the library, that Dave would ring up CPS and tell his life story.

"'ad? Lithen, I-yeth, I'm fine, I jutht-Yeah, I'm having ithueth with my braceth, you coul' 'efinitely say that. Can you 'ive 'own to the library an' help me out? Uh-huh, near the back. Thank you."

[+]

Dave was certain that John and him were not only joined at the teeth, but also at the heart.

That is to say, judging by the bright color of John's cheeks, John shared Dave's desire to curl up in a ball and die. Between Mr. Egbert's amused smile and Dirk's downright obnoxious laughing, both of the boys were certain they'd never live this down.

"Let me guess, lil man, you tripped and in a magic swirl of cherry blossoms, your lips happened to meet Egbert's?" Dirk asked as soon as he calmed his laughter.

"Bro. Back the fuck off an' get uth unthuck."

"'ad, pleath, can we juth get thith over with?"

John's dad chuckled, shrugging and spreading his palms. "I don't know. This certainly is a suitable punishment for skipping school, John. I'm extremely disapointed with you." Dave was pretty sure that was bull, according to the smile on John's dad's face.

John groaned, attempting to tilt his head back in anguish but instead knocking their foreheads together again. "Ja'e tol' you, di'n't the?"

Dirk smirked, shaking his head at Dave and clicking his tongue. "An' here I thought lil' 'ave Thrider knew better than to go kithing an' macking on nerdth. Tho uncool, 'ude," Dirk mocked, moving forward and finally analyzing the situation.

Mr. Egbert stepped forward as well, gently taking John's face into his hands and leaning down to inspect their predicament. "Do you boys promise to be more careful next time you decide to 'spend quality time' together?" He asked, half-teasing.

"What. Hol' up, Da'y Egbert, juth what the fuck 'o you think-" Dave attempted. However, he was interrupted by John furiously nodding, their teeth and jaws moving in pained and unharmonious agreement. "John, du'e, 'on't juth thell out, we weren't even-"

"'ave juth thut up an' thay yeth tho we can get untangle'." Dave sighed and mumbled something that could be considered an affirmative, and the Strider/Egbert parental team swooped forward to remedy the situation.


	4. CHROMOPHOB

4  
>CHROMOPHOB<p>

**A/N: Hello once again audience! This chapter is just. Horrendous. It took forever to write, and I had the worst writer's block, but dammit I think the one thing that got me through this was the idea of DAVE IN GOGGLES YES.**

**Fun fact: when I made the list of situations Dave would find himself in, I put a little one-or-two sentence summary of what I would do, to make sure I wouldn't have to rely on repeated sscenarios or have useless ideas. I apparently was lazy with this one, because the summary was "uses such garrish colors for SBaHJ because he doesn't actually know the difference, because ALL colors hurt his eyes." I promise you, that's not the main idea here.**

**Warnings: Not much. Taking a break from all the shipping because this isn't even supposed to have shipping except for plot devices. Bluh bluh bluh. Severe anxiety and a panic attack, though. Bad words, but that's normal in this story since ~*~Striders**_**~*~.**_

[+]

Dirk worked hard to care for Dave, despite what the little brat may think. He ran two jobs, he let Dave have the only bedroom, and he attended every parent-teacher conference and school graduation (even if Dave assumed it was for ironic reasons.) When Dave was born, he was constantly crying and constantly had his eyes shut. The doctors thought it was photophobia. _Nope. _They thought it was seperation anxiety and recomended keeping Dave near his mother. _Nope. _They thought there might be something in the hospital nursery that was irritating and recomended taking him home as soon as possible.

_Nope._

It was only when, as a joke, Dirk placed his shades over baby Dave's red eyes, that Dave stopped crying. Their mother was upset. Roxy had hung around for the birth but had soon left when tension began to build up in the family. Dirk, irresponsible Dirk, the same Dirk that partied all night long and skipped school more often than he went, knew what was wrong when Dave's own mother didn't.

Dirk still didn't know if that was why she just up and left, but it felt like it was.

Dirk got Dave a pair of his own shades and kept them on the baby's face. He soon gained a normal infant routine, sleeping when tired and crying when he needed to be changed or fed. Dirk dropped out of high school and got a job to keep them stable. When they were evicted out of their mother's home, they stayed for a while with Roxy, her husband, and Roxy's daughter Rose, until finally Roxy gave him the money to get an apartment.

Every time Dirk tried to get Dave's glasses off his face, as soon as ivory eyelids opened up to frame red irises with golden lashes, Dave would tear up and start to scream. It didn't matter if Dirk taught Dave to always keep his cool, it didn't matter if the only time Dave ever cried was when he was in pain. If Dave's eyes were revealed to the world, he would throw the biggest temper tantrum in the world. When pre-school was just around the corner, Dirk finally decided to get down to the bottom of this whole predicament.

"Hey, lil man, can I have a sec?" he asked from his spot on the futon, eyes trained on the television, when Dave emerged from the kitchen with a soda.

"Sup," was all Dave said as he sat down on the other end of the futon.

Dirk hesitated slightly, moving barely an inch toward Dave. Immediately, the kid knew something was off and tried to bolt. Within moments, Dirk was on him, pinning him down, the lights kicked off. He picked up Dave's shades from his face, taking off his own to show him that coolness, in that moment, didn't matter.

Dave stared up at him, confused yet defiant, hiding any fear he might be feeling.

Holding Dave's arms down with his knees, Dirk pulled a black flashlight out of his pocket. It was weak, but it was bright enough and the default setting's light wasn't colored, so it was the best he could get his hands on. He turned it on and shone it in Dave's face. Dave winced but otherwise didn't react to the sudden light in his face, squinting up at Dirk with even more confusion.

"Bro what the hell-" Dirk flicked a switch on the side, and the light began to slowly flicker between various shades of the rainbow.

Dirk knew all about fight or flight and adrenaline reactions. That day was the only time a five-year-old had managed to be stronger than him.

[+]

Although Dirk usually teased Dave for his weaknesses, he knew this one was a serious issue. He bought Dave gray tinted goggles and simply told him they were waterproof. Soon, it was commonplace for Dirk to see Dave come out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, goggles firmly around his eyes, or Dave sitting at his computer an hour after midnight, goggles firmly in place. Each new teacher, Dirk made sure Dave was allowed to wear his sunglasses. Sometimes he made up bullshit excuses, sometimes he told the truth, sometimes he seduced the teacher into letting Dave do whatever. Every time, Dave got away with wearing his anime shades to school.

Dirk did his best to cater to Dave's phobia, leaving behind the bright orange outfits and graduating to white polos and black slacks. The only brightly colored things they owned were the things Dave wanted and Dirk's smuppets.

Dirk was pretty sure the smuppets were okay because Dave avoided them like the plague anyways. Soon, Dave started bringing around friends. Teresa, a blind girl with bright red glasses and a fondness for a colors. Jade, with her simply colored clothes and enthusiasm for everything.

And John, with his bright wardrobe and sky blue eyes.

[+]

At first, Dave didn't understand why Bro was so harsh when it came to his friends. Teresa and Rose were the only ones who knew about his chromophobia. Teresa usually begged him to wear his goggles when it was just them, half because she was nervous around him wearing simple sunglasses during their coloring sessions and half because she knew he was more relaxed with them on. Rose generally stuck to simple blacks and grays when she came by, wearing her usual black lipstick and dark hair band.

At first, Dave assumed it was because he knew msot of their families. There was some deep-rooted emotional trauma bullshit hovering around and their kids would have to suffer his hate. Then Dave remembered Bro didn't have any friends.

In the end, he finally realized what it was. Bro was more lenient with Rose and Teresa, while most on edge around Jade and John. And he knew why.

Because they didn't know.

They didn't know that jokingly making a grab for his sunglasses wasn't funny, they didn't know that roughhousing was a strategic war for Dave, they didn't know that he turned invitation after invitation to sleep over down for a reason. And yet, Dave didn't care too much about it. They were his friends, and fuck if he had issues to deal with just to keep their adoration for him safe from the marring of pity. He wasn't going to wallow in his little corner of pity and safety nets, he was going to take life by the goddammed reins and he was going to have friends, whether his douchebag brother liked it or not.

Naturally, it was with that mindset that after turning down yet another invite, Dave turned around and invited John over for a sleep over.

He informed Bro of this ten minutes before John would show up.

[+]

For the most part, the afternoon went by smoothly, the two playing video games and discussing whatever popped into their minds. Sometimes, it was hard for Dave, wondering if his glasses would fall off or slide slightly down his nose each time John jokingly shoved him after a particularly tense round of gaming. Bro made up bullshit excuses, constantly popping in to check on Dave under the guise of accusing Dave of stealing his records or drinking all the apple juice.

When it started getting dark out, they moved on to watching movies, alternating between the hilariously ironic and the frighteningly Nic-Cage-centric. Dave winced each time John jostled him to blather on about whatever was happening, but soon even that died down as John grew more and more tired.

Soon it was two in the morning, and Bro unplugged the TV and politely informed them that it was time to go to bed. Which means he grabbed Dave by his collar and picked a sleeping John up with one arm, respectively dragging and carrying them to Dave's bedroom.

It was awkward as hell for Dave to have to share his bed with John, but Bro had the futon and both of the Striders be dammed if they had to wake John up to ask him where his sleeping bag was. After getting over the tension of being a few inches away from his sleeping best friend, Dave rolled onto his side to face the wall and focused on drifting off.

[+]

Dave knew the Strider lifestyle was, at its core, based upon reflexes. He knew that if he had something Bro wanted, he better be prepared to defend himself against anything Bro threw at him. He knew that he had to be prepared for avalanches of smuppets, Lil Cal hanging out in the sink while Dave was in the shower, and a fridge full of shitty swords. He had to be prepared to fight on a moment's notice, prepared to deal with Bro randomly flashstepping in front of him with a can of shaving cream in hand, fingers already pressing down on the pressurepad.

Just as Dave had to adapt with being a Strider, he had to adapt with Chromophobia. He had reflexes at par with a hummingbird, ready to deflect any attempts at dislodging his shades. He could detect the subtlties of color differences through his shades and knew when the best time would be to switch between his sunglasses and goggles with the minimal amount of colors reaching his retinas.

Unfortunately, Dave knew a lot of things. He knows that reflexes take conditioning to hone. Applying that logic, it was probably obvious that without much practice, soon reflexes die off.

It had been a long time since Dave had slept without his goggles. So when he woke up a few minutes after the sun began to filter into the room, he automatically opened his eyes as he sat up. Even if he had knowingly fallen asleep with his sunglasses, he had overestimated his skills. He caught barely a glimpse of aviator shades on the sheets before he screamed, eyes screwed shut, his entire body trembling. He could barely hear John groggily waking up over his hyperventilating.

Dave wanted to punch himself in the face. This was insane, this was _uncool, _there was no way he was acting like this in front of his best friend. He could feel the heavy thump of Bro's footsteps scrambling to get to Dave's door revertebrating from the floor while John tried to get Dave to calm down, attempting to pull the cool kid's palms away from his eyes.

The room was too dammed bright, the light filtering through his eyelids as a harsh, sharp red. He felt like his chest would explode from how fast his heart was racing, and his lungs would collapse from how constricted they felt.

Thoughts of how lame he must seem were drowned out by his panic.

[+]

John was shocked. He immediately sat up, scrabbling around the dresser before finally locating his glasses. Dave was against the wall, legs against his chest, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.

John could hear Bro croak "Dave?" from the living room before he heard the elder Strider stumbling out of bed. John's eyes were wide and confused as he attempted to get Dave to calm down.

"Dave, dude, what's the matter?"

Bro slammed the door open, shades askew, hat missing, barefooted, and sweatpants clad. Tangerine met ultramarine, their eyes reflecting their worry. John was unsettled, certainly, because he rarely saw Bro without his shades. And when his eyes were visible, it meant the shit had hit the fan.

The moment of tension was broken as Bro sweeped forward, forcing Dave's hands away from his eyes, replacing them with his own shades. While Dave looked a bit awkward with the pointy sunglasses in comparison to his normal aviators, with a few minutes of Bro simply sitting next to Dave, bright orange irises keeping an eye on the youngest Strider, Dave's breathing began to level out.

Another unnerving thing to add to the list of things that make John feel awkward: when the Striders communicated in silence. Dave and Bro kind of just stared at each other for a few moments before Bro sighed and stood up. "Hey, Egbert, how about we let the princess get her beauty sleep? I'll get pancakes or some shit from McDonald's."

While the thought of having to spend time with Bro who, frankly, scared John, and the idea of _anything _from _any _fast food chain made his stomach crawl, he glanced at Dave, nodded, and quietly followed Bro.

In the end, John found some pancake mix, a box that looked like it was barely holding itself together, of which Bro commented "oh, Roxy gave that to us as a housewarming gift." John didn't know if pancake mix could survive a few years without going bad, but in the end he decided that it was unopened and any bacteria would be killed while he cooked. Despite the Strider diet of greasy foods and sugary drinks, John realized that maybe Dave's lack of appreciation for good food wasn't genetic, because Dirk ate the pancakes as they were finished, paying no mind to the fact his fingers were turning red from the countless amount of times he snatched them piping hot off the plate where John was stacking the finished products.

Finally, as John managed to keep a few pancakes away from the elder Strider's wandering hands, both boys having eaten their fill, they both sat awkwardly on the couch, My Little Pony playing on the TV. Although John was pretty sure Bro's bored lounging, feet kicked up on the coffee table and all, wasn't awkward. It was more douchebaggish than anything else.

John flinched when Bro finally spoke, the heavy, lazy drawl startling John out of his anxious stupor. "Chromophobia."

"I-what?"

Without his shades on, Dirk seemed like even more of a jerk to John. Orange irises rolled up to the ceiling before settling back on the TV. "S'what made Dave freak out. He has Chromophobia. Colors get his panties all in a twist."

Well, it certainly filled all the blanks in John's mind. The cool kid facade, the shades, the constant avoidance of any physical activities. Suddenly, John didn't think Dave was a total idiot with his constant bravado.

"Does he freak out every morning?"

John watched as Dirk's jaw clenched. "No. Usually he has goggles he wears to bed 'cause of some science shit he found on the net 'bout how people wake up durin' the night an' don't remember it 'cause their mind is still asleep. But obviously he thought he could be tough an' didn't wear them."

Even though it wasn't written out in plain sight, John knew he was being accused. John knew Bro was a jerk, no matter what, but, golly, he still understood that Bro cared about his brother, and he felt bad that Dave had put himself through an anxiety attack for John's sake.

Well, John be dammed if Dave ever chose not to wear goggles around John again. He'd just have to do the best friend kind of thing and kick Dave's butt every time he made stupid decisions like that again!


	5. CONGNTL INSNSTVTY TO PN AND ANHDROSS

5  
>CONGNTL INSNSTVTY TO PN AND ANHDROSS<br>(Part 1)

**A/N: I have no idea if I've pointed this out or not, and I realize I probably haven't, but in case you haven't noticed, this "collection" of oneshots basically serves a few purposes: to get all these "not-so-cool-now-are-you-Dave?" ideas out of my system and also as a sort of means of experimenting with my writing, as well as getting back into the hang of fanfiction and making consistent updates a habit. (You guys may have noticed that I tend to spoil y'all, with updates roughly four to five days apart.)**

**I know this chapter's main focus is an extremely rare issue, with only like a few people in the US having it, but gosh what are the chances of Bella meeting the only pedophillic, necrophillic vampire? (I'm kidding, but despite the chances, this is a fictional story and sometimes fiction is fiction for a reason, and sometimes you have to just ignore science for the sake of the story. And also I just think this makes Dave a tiny bit more badass.)**

**Also, if I accidentally capitalize "doctor" in this, I am so sorry, I was into Doctor Who before I got into Homestuck. In the end, you can pretend the doctor doesn't act like Ten because I'm totally not compulsed to make him act like Ten.**

**Warnings: sudden POV change from third to second, cursing, possible triggers such as mild violence, adult drinking, and gore. I don't think I understand what triggers are because I just put everything that could be related to trauma under there. Is there a list of triggers? More warnings include irony, mild child abuse, and hospitals.**

**Big note: to any who missed the April Fool's chapter. Well, uh, sorry for that. I said I would remove it as soon as April Fool's was over and I did. If you want to read it, feel free to inbox me here or go over to my tumblr (aggrievvestrife) and send me an ask. I'll be happy to send you a copy, but please leave the anon off. I'm not gonna go posting that kind of stuff where everyone on my tumblr can see it because frankly, that is the worst writing I've ever done lmao**

[+]

Your name is Dirk Strider, aka "Bro," and if you weren't in a public place right now, you'd probably slap that exasperated look off of Dave's face.

You know that's a lie. You wouldn't waste your time smacking your little brother around. It wouldn't have any purpose because, face it, he couldn't feel it. "Bro, fuck, I'm fine." The doctor looked at Dave's gushing arm pointedly, while you glanced down at his (most likely) broken arm.

"Doctor, we have a room ready for him." The doctor nodded, accepting the clipboard she handed to him before keeping a careful eye as she wheeled your little brother off into the elevator, that stupid left wheel of the wheelchair squeaking the entire way. It didn't matter that he still had his shades on, something they'd take away in an hour or so, you could tell he rolled his eyes before the elevator doors slid shut.

Fucking _teenagers._

"So, due to the special nature of David's admission—"

"Dave. Dave Strider is the kid's full name, no more no less."

The Doctor raised a curious eyebrow at you but nodded, continuing on. "Due to the special nature, I'll have to ask you a few questions so that we can have his details on file the next time he has to be admitted. Will that be alright?" There's no if. It's a definite thing that will happen in the future. Dave will fall and hurt himself, or cut off a finger, or burn his fingerprints off, and he'll need to be admitted to the hospital for constant surveillance over his condition.

Because you can't trust a kid with CIPA to know when he has a fever, or when his food is too hot, or when 'reaching for the remote' turns into 'reopening a wound.' Especially if it's Dave Strider, who thinks this entire thing was a waste of your's and his time.

This whole thing, this "telling the hospital the sob story that is Dave Strider's life" thing, is something you have to do every time you move, because if they don't know the full extent of Dave's faulty nerves, they can't properly treat him every time. "Of course," you say boredly, preparing yourself for yet another boring interview.

"Brilliant." He smiled kindly at you, and you mentally recoiled, practically feeling the pity roll over your skin, the hairs on your arms standing up as if they had been dipped in acid. He leads you into one of the triage examination rooms, and gestures for you to sit down across from him. "When did you first realize Dave might not be like every other kid?"

"When he first began teething."

[+]

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are nineteen years old. Your mother, only a few months ago, told you and Roxy that she was leaving. The two of you had to pitch in together to raise Dave, until Roxy had her baby a week later and finally married her daughter's father.

At first, you assumed Dave was just cool like you. Ever calm, he never cried for food or a diaper change, although he did get moody when he wanted attention. Mostly, he slept, and sometimes you had to wake him when it was time to eat.

At first, you had thought his tiny baby mind had comprehended just enough to understand that if you were going to be saddled with caring for a kid, money was going to be hard to come by for a while.

However, when Dave started teething, that's when you knew something was wrong.

You were watching TV, Dave propped up in your lap, a pair of your old shades on his face. When you felt something wet start to trickle down your arm, you assumed he was drooling. When you looked down, however, you realized it was blood.

He'd stuck his fingers in his mouth unconsciously to relieve pain he didn't realize he was feeling, and he'd gnawed on them for so long that he broke the skin with his budding teeth.

You immediately pulled his hand out of his mouth and trapped them in your grip. He moved his attention away from the TV, where Pinkie Pie said something about a party, finally looking up at you. You slid the glasses from his face and, after a moment's hesitation, pinched his arm sharply.

His red irises didn't so much as dilate, despite the red mark now fading into existence on his arm.

Still making sure his young baby self wasn't mutilating his tongue or lips, you fished out your cell phone and called Roxy to come take you and Dave to the hospital, because you couldn't keep a careful eye on him and drive at the same time.

She left Rose with her husband, despite how she didn't really trust him to watch her properly, and quickly whisked the two away to the hospital, where you both were told that a few tests would have to be run, but it was likely baby Dave had Congenital Insensitivity to Pain and Anhidrosis.

[+]

"Has he ever needed treatment while not under your supervision, such as during school, daycare, or being watched by a babysitter?"

You shrug and shake your head, and he opens his mouth to ask the next question when you pause, grunting as you scour your brain more carefully. He waits patiently, eyes focused on your shades.

"Well, one time while he was stayin' with our sister, he electrocuted himself with the Christmas lights."

He smiles patiently at that, and waits for you to continue.

[+]

"Dirk, Dirk, oh em gee I'm so _sorry_ I waz makin' the kids some frinks-drinks-an' I jus'-"

"Roxy, calm down," you say patiently into your cell phone. As Christmas rolled around, Roxy decided that two-years-old was the age where Dave needed to learn about _real _family time. Although her husband had walked on her, Roxy was managing well, taking good care of Rose. When Roxy offerred to take Dave off of your hands until January, one look at pristine and polite Rose Lalonde had told you your sister would be able to manage Dave as well.

Of course, you wondered days later where the hell you had gotten that idea from. After Roxy's husband left her, she'd turned the teenage habit of "occaisionally boozing it up" to full out permanent intoxication. Although she still managed to show her daughter love, even if Rose would probbaly grow up fucked in the head, assuming it all was bullshit or something, it still wasn't right for little Rose to have to mind herself because Mommy was passed out on the couch, a sticky trail of wine dripping down the side of the leather upholstery.

And why would you trust your drunken older sister to properly care for Dave? Dave who had _CIPA, _Dave who thought it was cool to attempt to crawl out the window or reach into the garbage disposal.

"I'm tryin' Dirk but I jus'-"

"Roxy, deep breaths." It sounded more like hyperventilation, but she managed to calm whatever part of her was too terrified to answer you. "Lalonde, what happened?"

Any left over panic was quelled by the old habit of using her last name. "Rosey an' Dave were in their playpan-playpen-an' I was unravlin' the lights but 'en Dave said Rose wan'fed-wanted-sometin to drink an' Rose nodded an' so I stopped an' went ta go make 'em some sippy dups-cups-an' then Rose starts screamin' an' I go to check on 'em an' Dave got out of the playgen-_playpen, dammit_-an' stuck my car keys in the 'lectric socket-"

"How did Dave get a hold of your car keys?"

"I let 'im play with them?"

You could've called that one from a mile away. Did she not realize that was something really stupid to do with a kid that wouldn't feel any pain if he shoved a key up his nose? "Is he still conscious?"

"Yeah. His left fingers are burnt an' they keep flexin' but-"

"Are his eyes open? Does he respond when you say his name?"

"Strider calm yer horses, he's _fine_-"

"Lalonde, hold the damn phone against the kid's ear."

After a bit shuffling, you heard Lalonde distantly say "_Davey, sweetie, say hi ta Dirk._"

For a few tense moments, you can feel your heart start to pick up the pace, before finally after a few heavy breaths from the receiver you hear the familiar garbled attempt to say your name. "_Bruh?_"

"_Yeah, kiddo, i's Bro! Wanna tell 'im how yer doin'?" _She sounded like she was starting to panic again.

"Gogdammig, I wan' juice!" You sucked in a breath as you heard the familiar sound of your little brother slapping his thighs angrily.

Roxy pulled the phone away and spoke once more to you. "Strider, wha' do I do?"

"Lalonde, you live thirty minutes away. Just, dammit, take him to the hospital. I'll get up there as soon as I can, alright?" She drew in a shaky breath and mumbled an affirmative.

[+]

After that little incident, Roxy became much more restrained with her drinking. She limited her all-day binges to days where Rose was quiet and calm all day, but otherwise kept her drinking down to a nightly thing. While your sister was serious and quiet by the time the kids were in kindergarten, your personality eventually shifted towards being more aloof and guarded by ironic humor and borderline-abusive teasing.

Roxy graduated out of childish dress-and-legging combos to a mature sciencetist get-up when she got a job at a nearby research facility. Even you moved on from your daily immature jeans and t-shirt outfit, preffering dress pants and shoes, polos, and a cap over your messy blonde hair.

Not that you got a job that called for it. You just developed a bad habit on hitting on single moms and teachers. Partially because it was hilarious to watch thirty-something ladies get their panties all in a twist that someone as young as you (though you weren't younger by much) would flirt with them.

And partially because, after all the stress of dealing with Dave, you needed to get laid, badly.

Flattering Dave's teachers helped, however. His preschool teacher made sure to instill the buddy system that year, and coated everything in the classroom with a layer of padding.

"Have you ever had any instances where his care was handled the completely wrong way by a proffessional?"

You stretch your legs out in front of you, crossing your ankles and leaning your arm on the armrest, your chin in your hand as you think. "Of course. Some people don't know how to deal with the little shit's issues." Your right arm rests on the other armrest, your fingers tapping a random beat on the plastic.

And it was true. When Dave started preschool, you tried the usual blunt-facts-forward maneuver.

When the stuck-up fifty-something woman told you Dave would be treated just like every other kid in the class until you put forward some paperwork, you tried to shower her in compliments.

It still didn't work.

For the next two weeks of school, Dave was sent to the nurse's office on a nearly daily basis, while you scoured the apartment for any sign of the paperwork, frantic in your own silent way. In the middle of his third week of school, you received a call from the principal.

While you were used to seeing the nurse's extension show up as she gave you daily updates on Dave's school life, it was a little frightening to see a completely different number with Dave's school as the caller ID.

"Hello?" You asked, muting the TV. It was probably extremely unproffesional to have Jersey Shore going on in the background of a call from your little brother's school.

"Hello, is this Dirk Strider, Dave Strider's father?"

"Older brother, but his legal guardian, yes." It was one of your biggest pet peeves, being called Dave's father.

"I'm the elementary school principal, Dolores Mirian, and it seems there has been an issue between Dave and his teacher. It would be best if you could come to my office as soon as you can."

"What the fuck did he do now?"

She paused, probably startled by your language (what was _with _these adults and their aversion to cursing?) before clearing her throat. "Well, fortunately enough the majority of the issue at hand was not his doing."

You sigh, whether from relief or exasperation, you don't know. "Yeah, fine, I'll head up there."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Strider. I apologize for any conveniance."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." With that, you hung up and got up from the couch, stretching and scratching your stomach as you tried to decide what to wear.

[+]

You swung the door open after the principal acknowledging your knock, striding in as relaxed as you could be while in a suit. Granted, it didn't have a tie and all of the buttons except for two-thirds of the shirt were undone, but it still felt awkward and formal to you.

You sat down in one of the seats in front of her desk after shutting the door behind you, Dave occupying the left. He seemed determined to keep his eyes on the principal, given you a grand view of him in profile. You could tell he continued to glance at you from his peripheral, however.

"So, what the hell happened?"

Dolores reminded you of a mom, the kind that had three school-age kids and a baby at the supermarket, the youngest wailing and the others either arguing or begging for various products. All in all, she looked wise beyond her years, slightly apologetic, and always maternally compassionate.

It rubbed you the wrong way.

Dolores had her red-brown hair, cut in a proffessional yet stylish layered bob that accented the tan of her skin. She wore a jade shawl over her ivory blouse, and while you couldn't see your legs you were pretty sure there was a jade green pencil skirt under there to match. Her eyes matched her shawl, and right now they were trained on you.

"According to Dave's teacher, he went on a rampage and tore up the classroom, taking out his anger on the equipment and his fellow students. Apparently, she had to restrain him." Her voice was clipped, as if someone tried to take an entire conversation and crop it to a few pieces to form one sentence. Her words were annuciated dramatically, however, and for a split-second your mind wandered and wondered if she was foreign.

"I didn't-" Dave piped up, and you could see the furrow between his eyes that showed he was on the verge of crying. You decided to defend him, since crying was lame and you didn't want your longer brother to carry on that kind of legacy.

"Dave, shut up." His mouth closed stubbornly, and you knew you had diffused his distress, replacing it with anger at you for interrupting him. You faced Ms. Mirian once more. "That doesn't sound like my little brother."

She gave you a sad kind of smile, as if she regretted to speak next. "A few of Dave's classmates, including my daughter, informed me that this is not the case." You narrowed your eyes, mentally preparing for what she would say next. Obviously, it was something much worse than Dave pirouetting off the handle in class, and anything more serious than that was wandering into bad territory. You lean forward slightly, jaw locked in determination.

"What happened, then?"

She glanced between Dave and you before finally focusing on your brother. "Dave, would you like to tell your brother what happened?"

He wrinkled his nose before putting on probably the best pokerface he's ever wore. "I said a bad word."

Dolores pursed her lips. "And then?"

He sighed. "And then I got in trouble."

"And what happened?"

He simply looked at the teacher, focusing on her, mouth stubbornly clamped shut.

Pieces in your mind were sliding into place. With an almost audible click as the gears began to roll as one, finally in the right locations, you leaned towards Dave and took his face in your hands, sharply turning his head towards the right. His glasses were knocked askew, red irises squeezed shut.

On his cheek was a fat, swollen red handprint.

You took a deep breath and dropped his jaw, and he quickly returned to staring forward. That teacher, that stupid teacher, had slapped your younger brother. And not just any slap, no. You were a master at reading body injuries, partially from a lifetime of fighting with your older sister and partially from Dave's lack of pain.

Dave's teacher had pimp slapped him.

No one was allowed to pimp slap Dave except for Roxy and you, and even though both of you did it gently and jokingly.

You closed your eyes and took off your shades, resting your elbow on your knee, massaging the bridge of your nose.

"She's been taken out of the classroom and told to go home for the day, another one of the teacher's taking on her students as well as their own. However, while we've never had this happen before, according to our rulebook, the standard in this situation is to have the parent and student determine what the reprimandations should be."

"I think she should be fired. She's a bitch," Dave piped up, his lips twitching downward and his eyebrows drawn together, holding back an expression of anger from crossing his face.

You glance over him, supressing the urge to glare. "Language."

Dolores pressed her lips together before looking at you. You felt naked, sitting there without your shades, looking someone in the eye. "Well, we have Dave's opinion."

You close your eyes in thought. What would happen if you got her fired? Certainly, any of the moms of the students in Dave's class would be frustrated by the change. It was only a few weeks in, but they'd summed up the teacher and developed an opinion. Just to repeat the process would make them a little uneasy and on edge.

However, if you showed mercy, they'd be tripping over their feet to get at you. Ooh, Mister Strider, ooh, I never would've been able to show such kindness if she had slapped my child ooh take me now.

And besides, if word got around that she was slapping kids, it would be better to let all of the moms band together to take her down rather than lone you.

"Is this her first offense?" you finally ask, putting on your shades before you meet her gaze again.

She simply nods, waiting for an answer.

"Then just...give her a slap on the wrist. Get her into anger management classes or retake some teaching lessons or something."

"What. Bro, no, what."

You glance at him, sighing in exasperation yet keeping your poker face on. "Dave, you didn't even feel it."

"I'm emotionally traumatized. I'll never be able to look at her again." You knew why Dave spoke like an adult. Somewhere along the line of raising Dave through his preschool years, you read somewhere that children speak in the way they are spoken to. Naturally, you started speaking to him as an equal rather than belittling him. It was probably what made him pick up on your cursing, but fuck if Dirk Strider would ever be caught censoring himself.

"What matters is making sure she doesn't do this again, dude, quit being selfish."

Dolores cleared her throat, and you two stopped your bickering to look at her again. "If it helps, we can transfer you to a different classroom, Dave."

Dave's lips twitched. "Would I be in the other kindergarten class?" You knew what that meant. That meant being in the same class as the John Egbert kid. Dave had been silently heartbroken when he found out his preschool best friend wouldn't be in his class that year.

Dolores nodded. Dave shrugged and leaned back in his chair, slouching. "I don't care what happens anymore. This problem is officially solved."

A week later, the PTA moms-plus you, because you joined for ironic reasons-held a meeting to "take a stand" against Dave's previous teacher's "outrageous behavior."

It's like you'd forgotten to take your swag off before stepping into the building, and you found yourself covered in bitches.

[+]

The doctor opened his mouth to ask another question when his pager started beeping. He pulled it from his belt and looked at it, before frowning. "Seems your brother's having some issues."

He stood up and somehow it became the unspoken rule you would follow. Easily, you matched his long-legged stride with your's, and after a few flights of stairs and some ID checks, you were inside. The doctor strode forward to stand beside Dave, while you stood by the doorway with your arms crossed, studying the scene.

Dave was on the hospital bed, cringing away and fighting off anyone who came near him. When you saw what the nurse was holding, you knew exactly what was happening.

You moved forward, standing on the opposite side of the bed, glancing up at the intravenous stand with the blood transfusion hooked on the rack. Dave was pale and his eyes were faintly rimmed with purple. Red irises focused on your shades.

"Dude, you can't let them stick a fucking needle in me."

You never understood why the fuck a kid with no sense of pain was scared of needles. You never would.

"Shit, Dave, that doesn't fucking matter. You know who I just got off the phone with? Our sister. And you know what she just told me?"

His eyebrows drew together, confusion written in his eyes. "What. What the fuck are you-"

You noticed that the nurse and doctor caught on, and Dave barely noticed as she gently gripped his arm and slid the needle into the crook of his elbow.

"No dude, shut up, listen. Apparently, Roxy got herself knocked up, and she gave birth to the baby while high on pain medication, and she named it after us. There's a little Davey Dirk Mcnuggie Lalonde running around. And it's a girl."

"Bro, what the actual fuck."

"No, dude, legit. And you know who the father is?"

"God dammit Bro, what the _hell-_"

"Obama. Obama is the father of Davey Dirk Mcnuggie Lalonde."

Dave glanced back at his arm, only to find the needle taped firmly to his skin. He shuddered, glaring up at you. "I hate you. I hate you and will murder you in your sleep. I will shove a goddammed smuppet down your throat and watch you suffocate. When the police come to question me, I will tell them all about your websites, and-"

"Dave, dude, shut up." In the middle of his rants, the doctor himself had personally administered God knows what into Dave's arm.

The doctor moved to stand by Dirk's side as Dave continued to glance warily at his arm. "A mild sedative to get him to sleep before we take a look at his arm and led the new blood work its way into his veins."

Dave looked up at you, shocked. "What? I just got motherfucking _sedated_? Dude, I'm not a fucking elephant, why would you even _let _them do that. You are the worst fucking brother _ever _and I swear, I am going to fucking tattle on you to Roxy and she will personally kick your ass."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright. I guess I'll hang around until then." The doctor nodded, and soon it was just you and Dave.

You pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, leaning forward. He glared at you, but already his eyelids were beginning to droop. "I hate you. This is pointless."

"Continuing whining like a little bitch, Dave. Soon I'll have to hide my credit cards because I can't trust you to not spend over my limit, all on shoes."

"I really will murder you," he mumbled, eyes sliding shut, Dave finally giving in and leaning against the back of the bed.

Only when Dave was fully asleep did you stand up and mumble, "Love you, too, lil dude," and lean in to plant a kiss on the top of his head, before leaving to go home until further notice on your little brother's condition.


	6. PRSCRPTON GLSSS

6  
>PRSCRPTON GLSSS<p>

**A/N: I know I said I would upload this yesterday, but I completely forgot that it was Easter until my dad woke me up early to go visit my mum. Since I'm up early today as well but don't have to do much, I'll have plenty of time to finish this.**

**Gah, my OTP is in here. Just a heads up that I may or may not completely run away with it.**

**Warnings include pillow fort wars, Bro/Redglare, a reference to one of Jo Koy's acts, boys doing stupid stuff, and scalemates wearing necklaces of rope.**

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to all of those readers who sought me out and talked with me on tumblr and pesterchum. You guys are the cat's meow, and it was keen talking to y'all and hearing your input! I love making friends with you guys, and I'm glad you guys gave me the chance :) If anyone else would like to join in on the shenanigans and chat me up while I work on future chapters, talk to me on pesterchum (my chumhandle is beeskneesDeductions) or message me on tumblr (aggrievvestrife.) I swear to you on Dave's life that I talk to everyone ::::)**

[+]

Dave was used to Bro bullying him in that No One Can Hurt Him Except Me kind of way. Dave was also used to having to wear prescription glasses, even though both he and Bro had opted for prescription shades instead.

So, needless to say, Dave was used to Bro stealing his shades.

As the sun began to filter into his window, one of which faced west, Dave rolled out of bed, fingers fumbling at his bedside table for his shades. Most mornings (albeit, afternoons in the event of summer vacation), it was all one fluid motion, a tuck and roll with his hand automatically grabbing his shades. This time, however, his hand slid across the smooth wood surface of his bedside table, setting his entire routine off. His knees and palms landed awkwardly on the carpet, forcing his entire body down due to imbalance, his eyes wide as he stared under his bed, his vision fuzzy and the breath knocked out of him.

Dave grunted as he pushed himself up, squinting at the floor around him for his shades. He knew every inch of his messy floor, and unfortunately his shades weren't to be seen. When he finally caught his breath again, he stood up and picked his way over to the door, swinging it open and narrowing his eyes, just barely detecting his brother's blonde hair over the top of the futon.

"Bro."

Dirk simply grunted in response. What Dave assumed was Bro's head tilted back to look at him upside down over the futon.

"Where's my shades."

Bro snorted, moving to look back at the TV. "Yes, ask the person who has nothing to do with your shades, where your glasses are. Real smart. Want to ask me where mine are?"

"No, Bro, I'm-"

"Dave. Ask me before I whoop your skinny ass with a smuppet."

"My ass isn't skinny."

"Dave, you don't even have ass. You have extended back with crack. Now ask me where my shades are."

Dave sighed. It was pointless to argue with Bro. "Where are your prescription Kamina shades, Bro?"

"On my face." Dave could practically hear the grin in his voice. "And do you know where they were before I went to bed?"

"On the coff-"

"ON THE COFFEE TABLE! Maybe you should put your stuff in the same place every time."

"But I did-"

"Now go clean your room."

Dave made it a point to go to the kitchen and make a bowl of cereal as loudly as possible. It wasn't the dirtiness of Dave's room that Dirk wanted remedied. It was his status as alpha male. Dave tore that to shreds by blatantly disobeying him, but that was how the world worked when you lived in the Strider household. You either fought back or had your entire personality scrubbed out of existence by smuppets and shitty swords.

[+]

And fought back Dave did. The next morning, Dave made sure to wake up long before Dirk would be. At seven, the sun already filtering into the living room through the blinds over the curtains, Dave crept into the living room. Bro's breathing was barely audible over the TV, which was really just static turned down low enough to let Dirk sleep but loud enough to provide white noise.

Despite the delusion Dave held as a child, he knows that Dirk was a heavy sleeper and didn't, in fact, wake up when there's even a slight "disturbance in the force." Sure enough, as he felt his way over to the coffee table, mentally patting himself on the back for not making too much noise, his fingers found familiar Kamina shades. While Dave and Dirk didn't have the same exact prescription, Dave be dammed if his sight wasn't slightly better after putting on the shades.

He snuck back to his room, and after thirty minutes of fighting to keep Bro's shades hidden by taping them to the bottom of his desk, he was able to return to bed, because he'd be dammed if a Strider was found to be awake before noon.

However, just three hours later, Dirk kicked the door open, katana drawn from what Dave could see between the fogginess of sleep and haze of his bad eyesight.

"Dave, I will kick your ass. Strife, right here, right now."

"Bro what the hell."

"You stole my shades. We will fight for them, winner keeps all."

Dave yawned and got out of bed, scratching his stomach. "Fuck that," he mumbled as he shouldered past Bro, heading for the kitchen.

"Dave, we are both men, and we are both Striders. I thought I drilled it into your head that Strider men strife when they have issues." No matter how many times Dave tried to dodge Bro on the way to the kitchen, Dirk was always in front of him, flashstepping in front of Dave, katana always precariously close to impaling one of them.

"Bro, I am going to starve to death if I don't get some Cheerio's in five seconds."

"Pull out your katana, dammit."

"I don't need a shitty sword. I am pretty sure I've already won." Finally he had his hands on a bowl and a box of cereal.

Dirk's eyes narrowed, and with a few crafty steps of the flash variety, Dave's Cheerio's were replaced with a bright red smuppet, it's bulging eyes staring down it's nose at him.

Dave stared blankly at the puppet before glaring up at his older brother. "This is war."

[+]

With the decree of war, the house became a battlefield.

Naturally, it was the ironic kind, with both brothers building unneccessarily complex pillow forts, claiming territory and key objects by extending their troops to guard it (smuppets for Bro, empty apple juice bottles full of piss for Dave), and from what Dave could see when he snuck out to nab the Xbox, Lil Cal was Bro's war advisor.

In the end, Dave wasn't going to complain. While Bro had the kitchen and bathroom, two key-points in Dave's survival, the youngest of the Striders held fort in his bedroom and the living room. While he had to resort to peeing in whatever bottles and cointainers he could find, he at least had the front door as part of his territory. Dirk may have the food, but it would be hell when that ran out, because he would have to go through Dave's turf to leave the house.

However, Dave couldn't survive on his dwindling apple juice supply forever, and he wasn't about to leave everything unguarded by leaving the house to go to the corner store for chips.

TG: tz  
>TG: you and me<br>TG: my house  
>TG: now<p>

GC: 3XCUS3 M3 :?  
>GC: 1'M BUSY<p>

TG: bring chips

He turned his phone off rather than listen to her rant about why she couldn't come over. She would make time for him. They were best bros, after all, and no one leaves their best bro without chips.

Sure enough, as he began to boredly wonder if he should start up some gaming or snoop on what Bro was doing, the familiar smacking sound of Teresa's cane on the door reached Dave's ears. Bro peeked his head out from the kitchen, poker-facing but obviously curious as to who it was. Dave got up to let her in, swinging the door open only to find himself face to face with Teresa _and _her mother. Although he rarely saw the two side by side, it was obvious the two looked alike. It was only when he saw the two together, however, that the similarities were thrown into focus.

They both had the shades, which Dave was pretty sure was a Pyrone key trait. Behind Teresa's, Dave knew lay burnt red eyeballs, the poor things seared from concentrated sunlight. He didn't know what made Teresa's mother blind, however. Besides all of that, they both had a mess of brown hair, Ms. Pyrone's in a sloppy bun held together with pencils while Teresa's was down, as well as the same round nose, pudgy cheeks, and ever-present sneers.

Dave realized Teresa didn't have her cane, but her mother had her dragon walking stick.

Which was basically the same thing, what is even the big deal about differentiating between the two Pyrone's objects.

Dave nodded at Ms. Pyrone, even if she was blind. "Sup, Nina," he said to her mother. It was kind of an unspoken rule that coolkids called their friends' parents by their first names.

You could hear that Bro whipped back into the kitchen behind you from the bang of bone on countertop.

"Hello, David," she cooed sweetly, despite the smirk on her face. She reached forward and pat him ontop the head before thumping her the bottom of her walking stick on the carpet of the apartment complex's hallway.

Teresa sighed dramatically and pulled her backpack forward before pulling out a bag of doritos and thrusting them into Dave's hands. "Theerrreee," she sighed before leaning forward, sniffing Dave.

"You smell like pee."

"Yeah, bathroom's now Bro's turf."

She wrinkled her nose and stepped inside, nearly stepping on Dave's feet as she did so. "And why is there territories now? I thought you guys shared everything in the name of irony or whatever it is Cool Kids do things in the name of these days."

Dave shrugged and shut the door after Ms. Pyrone stepped inside. While they most certainly shared facial features, they were dressed completely different. Teresa was in black shorts, a teal t-shirt, and red flip-flops, while her mother wore what Dave assumed was part of her work wardrobe: a red pencil skirt, a pastel aquamarine blouse with lots of frills, black pantyhose, and red heels.

If she had just come back from the office, that would explain the pencil bun.

"Bro stole my fucking shades."

"Hey, the little snot stole mine. And language." Dirk said after stepping back out of the kitchen, pushing it by stepping right up to Dave's boundary line.

"Bro, who gives a fuc-"

"Language!"

Dave narrowed his eyes. Bro better not be-

"Hello, I don't believe we've met," Ms. Pyrone (Dave needed to kick the habit of calling her that in his head) said, grinning wide, showing off her sharp canines. She stepped over to him, tapping her cane left and right with each step, following her nose to make sure she didn't knock over any of the bottles of urine. Finally, as she stood in front of him, she held out her hand.

Teresa moved to stand next to Dave before elbowing him in the ribs. "Cool Kid-"

Bro's lips twisted up into a smug smirk, and he reached out to grab her hand before attempting to bring it to his lips. Teresa immediately scurried forward, accidentally knocking over a few cans of piss, launching herself over the boundary line. Ms. Pyrone automatically stepped back quite a few steps, attempting to keep her good work clothes out of the aftermath.

"Bro, can I be on your team?" Teresa nearly shouted, latching onto Bro's arm. Dave wasn't surprised to see Bro had already regained his cool. "Sure. But that means your mommy has to be on Dave's side because it would be four against one."

Ms. Pyrone leaned towards Dave as Bro and Teresa absconded to the kitchen. "Four?"

Dave simply shrugged as he began walking to his bedroom for a strategics meeting. "Yeah, Lil Cal is Bro's advisor."

[+]

Dave sat boredly at his desk, Ms. Pyrone sitting on the floor, her legs tucked under her because it was wrong to show teenage boys between your legs. And Ms. Pyrone was one classy lady.

They needed plans. By now Teresa was probably replacing the smuppets with scalemates and hanging all of the ones that went AWOL. Her and Bro were probably broing it up, drawing maps of the apartment and roleplaying whatever one would roleplay in that situation.

Finally, just as Dave was about to suggest just making a run for it, Ms. Pyrone spoke up. "Do you know where he has your glasses?"

He blinked, running his fingers a few times through his hair. "Yeah. Prick told me and made a big show of it. He has them in his back pocket. Said some shit about not able to catch him to grab them or whatever. Asshole."

She raised an eyebrow before sniffing around his bedroom. She paused as she moved closer to his closet, then started cackling. "Dave, if you get Teresa out of there, we can kick totally kick his ass."

Yup.

One classy lady.

It was that reason why Dave put on a red t-shirt and skinny jeans while Ms. Pyrone headed to the store, put on red war paint, and wore red socks on his hands.

He casually strode up to the boundary line, waving his hands at the doorway a few times.

Sure enough, moments later, Teresa peeked her head around the corner, nose upturned as she tried to locate the cherry-scented bomb that was Dave Strider.

"Oh hey TZ, sup. What's Bro up to?"

"He keeps mumbling to Lil Cal. It's so borrrinng." She stepped closer, crossing her arms. "Where's Mom?"

"Well, I can't give out enemy secrets like you just did. But I can tell you this, you will want to be as far from the kitchen as possible in the next few minutes, bro."

Teresa frowned at that before saying loudly "Bro, I have to use the lady's room!"

"You know where it is," Bro called back.

Teresa proceeded to flop on the couch, albeit low enough so that Bro wouldn't see her if he looked into the living room from the kitchen doorway.

Ms. Pyrone came back just as Dave scooped up two of the oldest of the piss bottles. After a bit of creative and borderline disgusting preparations, one Miss Nina Phyte Pyrone was walking into the kitchen, hips swaying.

[+]

Being a mom was hard. It was hard, and probably every other mom in the world understands. That was why Nina Pyrone found herself trying to keep justice in the unruly Strider household. While Dirk was the one who started it all (and thus the one who would be punished), it would be right to get each boy their glasses back.

And then pull Teresa out of the aftermath afterwords.

That was why she was wearing a bra two sizes too big, two cold and naseuatingly precarious water ballons filled with urine in the place of her nonexistant breasts. Woe was the flat-chested gene that ran in the Pyrone family.

She tried to seductively walk through the messy kitchen to stand by Bro, but it ended up with her waddling.

Walking with ballons full of pee in down your shirt was hard to do when you were scared to death they would pop on you.

He glanced up at her before double-taking, orange irises squinting down at from his place on one of the counters. His pokerface was in place sans two bushy blonde eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

She relocated her retro shades to clip on the hem of her skirt and pulled the pencils out of her hair, shaking it out a few times before blinking her eyelashes at him in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

Nina wasn't even sure she was facing the right way. He smelt like tangerines and orange soda, but her nose wasn't as strong as her daughter's, and the entire plan would fall apart if she had to have her cane.

"Hello, Bro."

Both blonde eyebrows raised, his lips twitching upward. "Yo."

She moved forward before standing between his legs, palms pressed against the countertop on either side of his thighs. "You are the most sugoi of men I have ever smelt and heard, Bro. Ever since I heard you speak, you have made my kokoro go doki doki." All of the words felt foreign on her tongue, but it was what Dave had told her to say. She slid her hands down his arms and sides, before her fingers found the shades laying behind him on the counter.

Now Dirk was just blinking, obviously flabbergasted. As erotically as she could manage, she slid her hands into her bra, before quickly launching the water balloons at him and jumping out of the way, Dave's glasses in hand.

Bro made a choked sound as she absconded out of there, cackling. Her hands smelt like pee and her pantyhose were probably ruined, but damn that was fun.

She handed Dave his sunglasses just as Bro made it to the kitchen doorway, clearly angry and very drenched.

He opened his mouth to speak before Teresa scurried forward, standing on tiptoe to slide Bro's own Kamina shades onto his face.

Bro kept a stoic look on his face, though Dave could tell he was struggling.

"How about we all go watch a movie," he suggested loudly.

Bro turned to face him, and Dave could practically feel him glaring. Finally, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "A man better be allowed a shower before you all force me to watch something ironically."

Dave snorted while Teresa giggled. Ms. Pyrone grinned. "As long as I'm allowed to take Teresa home so we can change."

**A/N: And Redglare had hot sex with Bro so I can have OTP feels the end**

**I think the Pyrone/Striders would have like, the best family friendship ever and Bro and Redglare would totally try their best to be friends with the other's kid and even if there's no shipping they'd still all be awesome friends.**

**There's like, no way this isn't a thing that is real.**


	7. CONGNTL INSNSTVTY TO PN AND ANHDROSS 2

7  
>CONGNTL INSNSTVTY TO PN AND ANHDROSS<br>(Part 2)

**A/N: So I know I haven't updated in a while guys, and this is simply because I suddenly was flooded with inspiration and I was conflicted on what to work on. So each of my stories and ideas received a little bit attention at a time. However, I've got an AO3 account finally! So I decided to wrap this up in celebration. I would recommend following the story over there since it has proper formatting, but you're welcome to stick to here. I'll put up a link in the next chapter once I get everything reuploaded.**

**I also got fanart from this amazing person who I think is just boss all around, GreyFitti! You can see it at gaggrey. tumblr. com/ post/ 21066765837**

**Warnings: hospitals, doctors, blood, gore, and the use of the word yolo.**

[+]

You simply sat in the waiting room once more while the nurse worked on x-raying Dave's wounds. You sighed, taking your hat off and rubbing your eyes. You were sincerely tired of all of this. Of Dave thinking he was invincible and not caring for the consequences. Of having to school Dave how to fight just so he didn't take so many hits when someone got angry at him for being the little douche he was.

Of seeing your little brother bleeding and not knowing if there's fatal wounds somewhere where you can't see.

After a few moments of listening to some news lady discuss whatever irrelevant crap was going on in the world, the doctor showed up once more, sitting beside you in the stupid chairs and and watching the TV. Finally he spoke up, not even looking at you.

"Is it hard?"

You sighed and shrugged. "You got a kid?"

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Daughter."

"Imagine never knowing whether she's dying or not, every time she smiles at you." Not that Dave smiled much.

He nodded and finally faced you. "I'm sorry."

You shrugged again. You didn't want his pity. Dave didn't want his pity either. "So, did you have more questions?"

He glanced around the waiting room, and unsurprisingly for the time it was, it was empty. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed the clipboard from where he had set it on the chair beside him. "Yes. Where were we..." you watched his scan down the list and you decided to put your hat and glasses back on, carefully hiding your emotions away from this stranger.

"Oh, right! Has Dave ever had issues with kids his age?"

You snort, leaning back and crossing your hands on your stomach. "The kids a fucking brat. Of course he has."

Especially with one particular kid.

While early on, Roxy and you had attempted to get the two kids on good terms, Rose and Dave weren't having it. Rose constantly analyzed Dave and Dave constantly used her as a sort of verbal punching bag. The relationship between the two didn't shock you, however. If Rose was anything like Roxy as Dave was like you, then the kid wouldn't be able to deal with the Lalonde's snarky bullshit. The two bickered their way through the years, and only occaisionally spent time playing nice, and that only occurred after a particularly bad verbal (and sometimes physical) battle between the two.

You remember visiting Roxy before the two started fourth grade. Neither of you were very good at shopping for the kids, and so you joined forces each year to get school supplies. You and Roxy sat in the living, sorting out who's was who's and labeling everything with the kids names. You both heard the shouting coming from Rose's room, but that wasn't a surprise. Both of you simply ignored it, not recognizing that this was one of their bad fights. It's only when you hear the crack of wood being split that both of you realize that you'd have to intervene. Both of you scrambling, you pulled open the door and burst into the room. Immediately, Roxy swooped forward and kneeled in front of Dave, her already having processed what had occurred. You first looked at Rose, who had tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouths. You ignored Dave for the moment and pulled the door closer to you, looking at the back of it.

One familiar purple and black knitting needle was wedged into the wood.

Dave huffed and Roxy was pulling out her phone. Only then did you finally look at what you were scared to see. Wedged into his leg was the other knitting needle, blood slowly pooling in a circle around the wound.

Only after Dave was treated and you were waiting for the news of how bad it was, did Roxy interrogate Rose for what happened. Rose had been asking Dave what it was like to have CIPA. Dave had gotten angry when she wouldn't accept his answer of "I don't know, it's what's normal for me." The two began to yell about it and soon fell into their normal routine of trading insults. When Dave had called her a particularly vicious name, one which she refused to repeat, she'd lost it and threw her neeldes at him. She hadn't meant for them to hit him, only to head in his direction and startle him enough to stop.

But naturally, children didn't have the best of aim.

Rose was much more cordial to Dave after that, and slowly it rubbed off on him, leading to the two only occaisionally arguing, and never past verbal warfare. Nevertheless, the annual family shopping trips were called off, and the kids soon only ever saw each other once Roxy moved closer and Rose went to Dave's school. He nodded as he wrote things down, then looked up at you, expecting more.

You raked your brain for anything else that would be a good example. The kid got into fights all the time, but it would be redundant to explain all of them. Instead you settled for the first time he was bullied.

You began to label the various school's extensions in your cell phone contacts, rather than wonder what was going on each time it simply stated that the school was calling. Each teacher had a place, the principal's extension had a spot, and you had the nurse on speed-dial. So when the principal of Dave's middle school called you, you knew what level of worried to be.

"Yo."

"Hello Mister Strider, I believe it's been quite a while since I've last called you."

"Sure. So what'd he do this time?" _Just straight to the point._

She cleared her throat but followed suit. "It seems David-" you grit your teeth but dealt with it, "got into a fight with an upperclassmen. He almost bled out and has several bones broken. He is being rushed to the regional hospital and by law we have to inform you of the situation."

You blinked. This wasn't the first time Dave was hurt. This was just the first time he almost died. After a few moments of silence, you quietly asked for the address and hung up after receiving such. In the end, you'd rushed over there, and somewhere in your mind you had automatically assumed that Dave was hurt and scared and possibly crying.

When you got to his room you found, instead, Dave bored and uninterested with the world around him. His uncovered eyes swiveled away from the TV mounted on the wall and instead moved to smirk at you. You swooped forward and gripped his collar. You didn't know if you were aggravating his injuries. You didn't care.

"Why the fuck would you do that to me and then have the nerve to look all smug about it, you little shit?" you growled, teeth bared and jaw clenched. Red eyes met your orange irises through your shades, and you could easily read his confusion and shock in his eyes.

For a few moments, both of you were still, simply staring at each other. Finally, however, he wrenched himself from your grip and grinned. "Yolo."

Looking back, you could piece together why that particular situation had sent him spiralling out of control, putting up no effort to keep himself from getting hurt. He saw your weakness. He saw that you cared about him and that it pained you to see him injured. And he tried to make you stronger by trying to force you to get used to it.

The doctor noticed you were getting agitated, so he stood up and pat your shoulder. "I think that's all the information we needed, sir."

You nod, glancing up at the TV. From somewhere through the doorway leading to the hospital rooms, some sort of alarm was quietly going off. You knew it wasn't for Dave since the doctor's pager hadn't gone off, but it still made your stomach knot up and your heart stop beating for a few moments.

You slide your phone out of your pocket and text Roxy.

TT: Dave's at the hospital. Take care of him for a while.


	8. DF

**A/N: These are all up on tumblr and sometimes I update there first (this chapter was up last night on there.) I also have more fics on there? Two of them are total jokes and embarass me but one is really crappy and I don't think I'm capable of writing Stridercest correctly? Either way, my new tumblr URL is dame-of-void and I might make a writing tumblr!**

**Warnings: cursing, lots of pesterlogs and texting, and uh I guess Jade/Dave shipping since it's the only one I could think of that could work that isn't John. (Since you may recall I've already done DaveJohn shipping)**

**Please let it be known that any and all sign language I've learned has been done in my recreational time and thus I may be horribly wrong with how sentences are structured and what words actually exist.**

8  
>DF<p>

[+]

Dave felt trapped.

Which wasn't a shocker since he almost always felt this way.

The only time he didn't was when he was at home, and even then it was only slightly diminished. His mind was a constant raging firey storm of emotions and loneliness, and being with Bro only softened the flames to a quiet flicker.

Bro had long since adapted to Dave's hearing issues. He spent 24/7 of a week learning sign language for him when Dave was a toddler and within the month both of them were fluent enough to speak through it. Dave learned how to lip read and was able to speak monosyllabic words without sounding like he spoke through a mouth full of marbles.

That's why when he reached Middle School, he begged Bro to not enroll him with an IEP. Bro rolled with it, thankfully, and Dave was free of being escorted around with a sign language interpretter. Those who had spent elementary school with him questioned it at first, but slowly it died over the years, until in High School everyone had forgotten he was deaf.

He was just a normal high schooler who was angsty and failed his classes.

Until Jade Harley joined. She was apparently cousins with the Egbert kid, someone Dave rarely paid attention to. John was the kind that acted like a kicked puppy when you didn't respond as enthusiastically as him. So naturally, Dave tried to never cross paths with John.

She transferred into school and was placed in the seat next to Dave in Physical Science. He was pretty good there, and it was the only class he had over a C in. The class was full of idiots who forgot what they learned as soon as they saw a pair of tits, and so the class had been stuck learning and relearning and relearning balancing equations.

Rhythm was something that came naturally to Dave, rhythm, time, and in turn, math. Balancing equations came naturally to Dave, and so he was confident he could sit in class and do what he wanted without worrying about failing tests. He ignored the assignments and sat in his seat all day, slouched, using his letterman jacket to hide the fact he was texting.

TG: so have you done it yet  
>TT: I sincerely hope you are not discussing Anaya and my personal business.<p>

Dave's eye twitched at that. While he felt more at ease and felt more of himself when he was typing to others, conversations with his often made him want to puke.

TG: lalonde do you honestly think i want to know if you and mirriam do the nasty  
>TG: jesus fucking christ woman<br>TG: i was asking if you came out to roxy yet  
>TT: Then no, I have not in fact spoken to mother about this matter.<br>TT: Why do you inquire?  
>TG: why havent you already<br>TG: are you scared of her  
>TG: youre scared of roxy damn<br>TT: Strider, I am not scared of my own mother.  
>TG: are you worried shell disown you or some shit<br>TG: because if theres any lady whos openminded over everything  
>TG: its your mom<br>TG: also me and roxy both think bros homo and shes not worked up over that  
>TG: the woman will probably give you a pat on the head<br>TG: give you a martini  
>TG: and then cry over her baby growing up<br>TT: You are a neverending fountain of knowledge.  
>TG: sarcasm<br>TG: how original  
>TT: Shouldn't you be getting an education rather than sitting around discussing why your niece prefers breasts that lactate over the variety that does not?<br>TG: i would rather get an education than listen to you talk like that yeah  
>TG: peace<p>

TG: so bro  
>TT: Do your schoolwork.<br>TG: fuck you too

TG: hey roxy  
>TG: dave hoeny shoudlnt yuo be doin yoru schoolwork<p>

He silently groaned and put his phone back in his pocket, laying his head on his desk and closing his eyes. However, after a few dark moments where his only sense consisted of smell and taste, he felt something touch his palm. Lifting his head just slightly, peeking his eyes open from behind his shades, he found a folded piece of paper laying on his desk, beside his hand.

He stared at for a few moments, wondering if he should actually read it, before finally returning to slouching in his seat, reaching out and pulling the paper foward, unfolding it and skimming over the bright green handwriting.

Meet me in the hall after class! :) -GG

Dave wasn't dumb. He'd seen enough cheap movies to know that looking around the room for who it was, is the wrong move. He simply pursed his lips and folded it back up, sliding it into his pocket and simply laying his head back down.

Maybe he could take a nap instead of deal with whoever that was.

[+]

The bell rang, he noted as everyone around him began packing their things and getting up. He didn't carry around a bag, so he simply stood up from his desk and headed for the door, eyes on his phone as he checked for any messages. He rolled his eyes when he saw familiar purple text, and he manuevered to lean against the wall outside the classroom door.

TT: I know for a fact you are not doing your schoolwork.  
>TG: whos the snitch in science ill kick their ass after<br>TT: For your information, it's Terrence.  
>TG: wow that is a new low for you lalonde<br>TG: spying on me with a kid i cant beat up  
>TT: I am simply good at managing my resources.<br>TT: That, and I offerred to collab with him in a writing project for English and I knew he was struggling with the topic.  
>TG: you bribed ter<br>TG: i need to kick your ass inste

Dave accidentally hit send as someone touched his shoulder, the closest to a flinch he's ever had since he was a kid. Automatically his eyes looked up, his pokerface in place as they met lime green irises.

Jade Harley grinned at him, her fingers wiggling at him in a wave as her lips moved in a greeting. He nodded and mouthed sup, before being confused as he realized he was conscious over his voice for the first time in a long while.

Her lips were moving already as she spoke to him, and between how animated her expressions were, the wild hand gestures, and the buck teeth, he wasn't sure where to look.

From what he could pick up from her body language, she was explaining something and there was a hint of hesitancy in her eyes, but by the time he realized he should be watching her lips, she was already halfway through a question.

_What_, he felt his lips moving. She sighed, rolling her eyes and clearly exasperated. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, her lips moving too quickly as he struggled to piece together her words. Jade was asking something, asking Dave something about doing something, but he couldn't for the life of him follow her sentences.

_Uhh._

_Yeah._

_Sure._

Apparently those were the magic words, because her face lit up and she smiled, showing off bucktoothed pearly whites.

_Great!_

That was all he picked up as she turned and sauntered off.

Furrowing his brows, completly uncertain on what the hell just went down, Dave put his phone back in his pocket and headed to his next class.

The day passed by unceremoniously after that. He ignored his teachers, they ignored him, and he only had one encounter with Rose, who pulled him aside when the halls were nearly empty due to passing period nearly ending. She asked him in sign language why Bro was spamming her phone. He shrugged and quickly signed back _no clue._Afterwards she questioned if he needed any help with his homework and told him about how she'd like him to be there this weekend when she discussed matters with Roxy.

A student walked by when it was time for Dave to answer, and it didn't pass Rose's attention the way he tensed in their presence, casually gesturing and mumbling a reply. She simply nodded and mouthed _I will text you_before finally parting ways.

Soon the school day was over, and Dave found himself once more walking home. Sighing, he paused to text a complaint to Bro, passive-aggressively whining about having to walk home. Once more he felt someone touch his arm, and he glanced up once more to see Jade in front of him.

He frowned slightly, putting his phone away and making a very forced effort to read her lips, forcing himself to ignore her hand gestures.

_You must be doing something really important with your phone._

He shrugged. _Not really._He didn't know what a mumble was besides Bro and Rose's vague explanaitions, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't putting as much velocity into his speech.

She smiled at that, before pausing as the Egbert kid walked up and asked her a question. Only when she gestured at Dave did he realize she was mentioning him. _-gonna hang out with me for a while, sorry._

_That's (somethingsomething jesus christ I hate their stupid buck teeth) maybe another time, Jade._

She nodded and waved him off before gesturing and asking something about a place and his opinion. He furrowed his eyebrows before gesturing vaguely. _Don't care._

Jade nodded before reaching forward to grab his arm, lead the way to wherever.

Never in his life had Dave felt so helpless. Here he was, stuck with a pretty girl who spoke a mile a minute and apparently wanted to spend time with him. His head swam with self-loathing, and not for the first time in life did he hate himself for being unable to hear.

If she was speaking to him, he didn't know, because all he could see was the organized, chaotic mess of black hair in front of him. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, her lips moving to ask a question, one which he almost missed studying her face.

Dave hadn't given Jade Harley much attention; he didn't give anyone attention. All he ever saw was lips and hands, and occaisionally facial expressions when it involved people outside of his family that signed to him.

But with her, that was useless. He could rarely figure out what she was saying, so why bother?

He noticed the lighting made her eyes seem like a neverending field of green. Her skin was a soft tan, giving him a mental image of an exotic animal, a brown hound in a herd of sheep. Her face was round, and her lower jaw was a little further back than was average, which he figured accounted for her overbite.

Dave snapped out of it as he remembered she had asked a question.

_Can I ask why you're always so quiet?_

He shrugged and put on a small smirk, trying to pretend he was participating in the conversation fully. _Why?_

Dave was pro at this, at dodging questions by retaliating with his own. It was a good way to keep from having to say too much, yet still participating in the conversation.

She had a thoughtful look on her face, and he completely missed all she began saying as she turned her head once more to look where she was going.

Jade continued doing whatever she was doing while Dave simply followed. At some point she stopped holding onto his arm and simply led the way like a normal person, Dave trailing behind with his hands in his pockets.

He lamented on what he had landed himself in. He was with a beautiful girl. He was with a beautiful girl named Jade Harley.

And he knew nothing else about the situation.

Other than apparently she had led him to stand in front of a fast food joint. He raised an eyebrow before following her in. She turned to him and spoke, and he was thankful that she was speaking at a slightly slower pace.

_What would you like to eat?_

Thank you, Bro, for being such a shitty parent. I don't have to think about what to get.

_Number 4 and coke._

She smiled and nodded then gestured to the tables. You opened your mouth to ask what she was doing, but she cut you off.

_Stop right (something something) able to pay for my (i really want to know what she said) go sit down._

He frowned but finally turned and picked out a booth, watching as she sauntered up to the cashier and placed her order. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he ignored it. A few minutes later she came back toting a tray with their food, sitting down in front of him and sliding his food to him.

Dave took it and took a few bites, eyes trained on her as he watched her talk about something or another while she ate.

Dave didn't know what it was about her. Although he hated how he couldn't understand what she was so excitedly talking about, it was refreshing. Bro was a stoic mask, emotionless with his signing. Rose was always cynical and sarcastic, and Roxy was incoherent in all forms of linguistics.

Even if he couldn't hear her or understand what she was saying most of the time, Dave found that he enjoyed watching her.

Halfway through the meal she apparently switched topics, a more serious look on her face (though only by a fraction) and more questions. Dave could follow Jade better, however, and within a few minutes he was able to determine that she was talking about guns and asking him if he's ever worked with any.

He shook his head, leaning back. _Swords._

Her eyes lit up at that. _(something) you really? That's so cool!_He watched her laugh, and for some reason it made his stomach flip flop.

_Where do you train?_

He shrugged and happened to glance over her head.

His blood ran cold as his eyes landed on a bright and chipping orange truck.

Dave slouched low in his seat as a familiar (and obviously angry) older brother walked into the food place, eyes scanning around the room before landing on Dave.

Dave silently prayed for Bro to not yell as he slinked over to stand in front of the table, arms crossed. Jade looked startled and confused. Dave could feel Bro's eyes boring into his.

Dave's prayers were answered.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop Bro from signing.

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

Dave's jaw clenched and he chanced a glance at Jade. She kept glancing back and forth between the two Striders, and Dave could tell she was piecing things together. With a sigh, Dave replied, hands working in quick movements as he attempted to keep the answer as short as possible.

_What do you mean?_

Bro's eyebrows narrowed. _You completly up and disappeared. No one knew where you were, you little shit._

_Calm down, fuck. Do I have to announce it to the world any time I wanna hang out with a girl?_

Dave couldn't see Bro's eyes, but he had been around him long enough to not have to. He knew Bro glanced at Jade. He knew he sized her up.

It made his stomach twist up into knots to know that Bro was judging her for Dave's mistake.

Bro's eyes snapped back to Dave as he made a frantic shooing motion. Bro's jaw clenched, and Dave knew the older Strider was holding back from yelling. _Since when._

_Since when what._

_Since when do you have a social life._

Dave winced. He physically winced. It felt like he'd been stabbed right in the core of his emotions.

_Since when do you care if I have a social life._

Bro scowled at that, and he crossed his arms, simply staring at Dave. Dave glared back, daring him to force Dave to leave.

Dave could tell the comment had made Bro feel guilty, however, and finally Bro sighed. He turned to Jade and although he could only see part of Bro's face, he was pretty sure he said something to her about getting Dave home by a certain time.

Dave finally looked at her. She nodded at Bro, an understanding smile on her face as she spoke._ Of course!_

Bro nodded before glancing back at Dave, and then finally leaving.

It was a few minutes after Bro had driven off that Jade spoke, Dave's eyes automatically moving to her lips as soon as he saw her out of his peripheral.

_Can you hear me?_

Dave slouched further in his seat, the material of his jacket bunching around his neck a bit. He lay his hands on the table and absentmindedly toyed with the record phone charm on his cellphon. He shrugged, keeping an eye on her lips as he attempted to not look like a moody teenager.

_No._He felt his lips move on his own accord, and he was pretty certain he had spoken.

She furrowed her eyebrows before reaching out, taking his hand into her's. _You fucking idiot._Her words contradicted the smile she was giving him.

Dave frowned at that. _How am I..._He didn't continue, certain that if his voice would come out wrong.

She chuckled. _I could've (something) slower for you._

He assumed she meant talking. He tried to think of a reply, except he was too distracted by the fact she was still holding his hand.

Jade must've noticed because she grinned. _(something) learn sign language (something) you. Alright?_

He raised an eyebrow, finally sitting up again. _Why?_

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. _You fuckass, because I like you!_

Dave didn't know why, but that sentence made his stomach knot up. He simply furrowed his eyebrows at her. She sighed again before standing up, gesturing to the food. _Do you wanna go to the park?_

He was still just as confused as he was when he didn't know what she was saying.

Dave wondered if that was just part of associating with her.

_Sure._

She grinned and tossed what little food they had left into the trash before grabbing his hand once more and tugging him along to folow her.

It was only when he noticed that she kept turning her head to speak to him, that he realized he didn't feel completely lonely anymore.


	9. ASXL

9  
>ASXL<p>

**A/N: Wow I don't even know what to say to explain this chapter. I just kind of...rolled wi...th...it...**

**Warnings: Roxy/Dirk, language, angst because we got moody teenagers here**

**I really don't know what to classify this as. And this is completely different than what the story is normally like, because I didn't intend for this to originally be an OVRCMPNSTN chapter but then it turned...into...one...**

**Also, on the topic of updates, etc etc I think it'd be best to point out I removed the last chapter and will explain in detail the reason for that when I reupload it. For reasons as to why I have such slow updates, read the end A/N.**

[+]

It had started when he was little. You distinctly remember when he began to figure out exactly what was going on.

Way back when you spent more time with him, when you weren't quite famous just yet, you were at home more. You'd recently received a phone call from a teacher asking permission to run Dirk through an IQ test. You didn't care either way so you had told her it was allowed, and that particular day you had picked him up about thirty minutes after school had originally let out.

He sat in the back seat of your car, blank faced, slouching, arms crossed. Even with how low he sat in his seat, his feet didn't reach the floor boards just yet. You could tell he would grow to be tall, taller than you, before he graduated.

It didn't bother you too much.

"Bro."

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, barely turning your head a fraction of an inch, eyes immediately back on the road. He caught the movement however and knew he had your attention.

"Why aren't you married?"

Your fingers tensed on the steering wheel and you realized you'd ran a red light.

"What. Why?"

You glanced at the rear view mirror and just barely caught him shrug. "You're almost thirty. It's socially frowned upon."

_Jesus fucking christ, _you thought. _You're fucking seven kid, where the fuck is this bullshit coming from._

"Saving it for later. When you're old enough to not whine about me making out with someone in front of you." You attempted to speak in a casual manner, taunting him. Laying down the bait for a proper response for his age.

"I can't tell you what to do, so why would I bother?"

That had basically been the day when you realized your brother was a lot more different compared to most kids, more different than you had originally thought.

[+]

At the age of ten, Dirk was homeschooling himself at a high school level. You purchased the books, you got him the materials he wanted for his personal projects. He built his own computer mostly from scratch and managed to somehow tap into the neighbor's internet connection, stealing their bandwidth from them for months before they finally figured out what had happened and confronted you.

That was all the year you hit big time, when a producer contacted you about your movie, and providing you with the funding needed to make more. You slowly spent less time with Dirk and more time with your work, until spending time with him became a rare treat for you.

At the age of thirteen, he needed braces and paid for them himself with money he had earned designing products for small family owned stores nearby. When you realized what had happened, it finally dawned on you that your brother was already at your mental level. He was responsible enough to earn money and manage it so that the electric was never cut off when you were gone for a month or more. He kept food in his stomach, water running through the pipes, a roof over his head, clothes on his back, a proper education, and still had time to dick around and do whatever the fuck he wanted.

You didn't know how to deal with that. What parent does? He was still at the emotional level of a thirteen-year-old, and that combined with his intelligence made him cocky and arrogant. He knew he was smarter than other kids, knew he was smart enough to successfully build an AI. (You had spoken to it exactly one time, a total of fifteen lines of Instant Message. It was like your brother, only 20% more snarky and 50% more emotional. You didn't want to speak to it again.)

When Dirk was fourteen, you took a year-long hiatus, deciding to finally handle the situation. When you came home, you expected him to be an emotional wreck, with possible attention (or worse, daddy) issues, and maybe even some social anxiety.

Nope, here was a high-functioning fourteen-year-old with a 175 IQ. He sat there, watching TV with a bowl of cereal, while you explained you'd be home for a year, give or take. He nodded, but ignored you.

It was the right, proper way for a teenager to expectantly act, and yet somehow it twisted your stomach into knots with how wrong it felt.

[+]

You gave yourself a week. A week to find something off, something to fix, a reason for him to need you and depend on you.

You sat in your study, boredly watching videos online and reading blogs, when a pesterchum window popped up. You didn't recognize the handle, couldn't comprehend why anyone would message you in what felt like outdated technology to you.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 17:34

TT: Bro.  
>TT: What's the big deal about sex?<p>

It took you five minutes to think of a response. You had never given it thought that he might not have been able to teach himself one thing, the one thing most teenagers learned about on their own.

You had no idea what to type, no idea which keys your fingers should press, because you didn't know. You didn't know the big deal about sex. You'd fooled around in high school just like everyone else, but it just didn't really appeal to you. It was just another mundane action like washing your car or ordering pizza, although obviously it wasn't supposed to be. Others were offended by your lack of response, so in the end you had completely stopped attempting and assumed it just wasn't the thing for you.

The one thing Dirk didn't understand, and you didn't hold the answers.

TT: Obviously I understand the mechanics of it.  
>TT: Insert here, dispense this there, nine months later, pop out a baby.<br>TT: Where's the appeal though?

And yet still you sat, for five minutes, just trying to figure out what he was asking. Was he asking your opinion or was he trying to find reasoning for his own possible lack of desire to get it on?

TG: kid you gotta be more specific  
>TG: thats a pretty broad question<p>

If you listened really closely, you could hear him tapping away on his keyboard in the other room.

TT: Why do people do it besides primal urge to reproduce?

TG: theres your answer right there  
>TG: primal need<br>TG: some instinct that makes the body say hey  
>TG: lets find some chick<br>TG: wet our dick

TT: But that's not quite true since adolescents and young adults do it for the pleasure rather than the desire of children.

TG: well i hate to break it to you kid  
>TG: but ive never felt the need for either<br>TG: cant have too many striders running around  
>TG: the world cant handle it<br>TG: youre more than enough for me

You were desperately clinging to your cool mask, using your only safety blanket, your way with words, hoping you could worm your way out of it. Obviously he was processing what you said, no doubt nit-picking your word choice for some logic, trying to deduce whether you were serious or were just bull-shitting your way out of The Big Talk.

It felt wrong to you. It didn't feel right putting your feelings, your opinions, yourself out there, laying your mind prostrate at his feet for him to pick and choose with no restraint exactly what he wanted to hear. You wanted, had always planned, that if he ever asked you about sex, you'd just hand him a condom and a pamphlet from Planned Parenthood, and be done with it.

But no, he wasn't asking how it works, how to be safe, where to go to get checked for all sorts of nasty crap.

He was asking why people do it and feel the need to do it, and you didn't know the answer to that.

TT: Are you being honest?  
>TT: You're not making crap up just to get out of talking to me?<p>

TG: one hundred percent honest with you kid

Again, he didn't respond for a minute or so. You wondered why he was so interested in asking you things now, of all times.

TT: I'm disappointed in you.

The alert telling you he had closed the window with you felt like a stab in the heart. The one thing you'd wanted, the one time your full-of-himself, oh-so-intelligent brother had needed you, and you couldn't do anything for him.

You cut your hiatus short when it reached the half year mark.

[+]

At fifteen you discovered he had internet friends. You confronted him, making sure he was being safe and keeping personal info to himself. He had rolled his eyes at you and underneath all the passive aggressive bull shit he spewed, you easily figured out he'd given his address out to all three of them.

From what you could gather, you angered him. He was upset you'd been unable to provide him with the information he wanted. It probably hurt him that the only person he had physically in his life (no matter how often you weren't actually there) wasn't able to help him more than the internet.

You suppose you couldn't really get angry at him for spending most of his free time on pesterchum, to the point where his AI became AR, the pair of shade's goal now to keep his friends preoccupied when he was busy.

You made sure to always be the first to the mail, which wasn't too hard to manage. Unlike Dirk, who didn't have school or a job he had to physically go to, you were used to a daily routine of wake-up, shower, dress, eat, work, wash rinse repeat. Around his birthday, the packages and accompanying letters had arrived. With no respect from him you could lose, you carefully opened the letters and skimmed them. The most neatly wrapped present came from a girl named Jane with bright blue handwriting. The more simply wrapped package was from a boy named Jake who wrote in green, and you quickly gave up after you realized his way of speaking (or, writing) was a bit too outdated for you to fully understand what he was saying.

The last package was an absolute mess, the orange paper torn and crumpled in parts, the entire thing more tape than wrapping. It was a bit difficult to read the handwriting, between the horrendous spelling, shaky scrawl, bright pink letters, and occasional stain. In the end, you'd read it all rather than search for key words that meant Dirk was in danger. The girl was Roxy, and it was plainly obvious within the first few lines she was probably drunk. She obviously had a thing for Dirk, one of which he apparently didn't return (according to her words). At her last name you had to pause. Lalonde felt incredibly familiar, before you finally realized where it came from. The tabloids were always either implying you and the best-seller of some wizard series were doing it, related, making a collab movie project together, or all of the above. You'd seen a picture of her maybe once, and while she did resemble you a bit, you didn't bother establishing contact.

You wondered if maybe Roxy was the daughter of her, and if she was as alone as Dirk. It made you feel a bit guilty to do so, but you hoped she was. Dirk needed someone in his life who understood what he was going through.

You replaced the envelopes and placed them all by Dirk's door as well as your own gift for him, a shitty sword prop left over from one of your movies. Whether he admitted it or not, you knew he watched your movies religiously.

You made a mental note to later check them out over pesterchum.

[+]

By the time you'd gotten to Roxy, you were beginning to regret ever trying. Jane was interesting until you found out she was heir to Betty Crocker, the company of which continued to antagonize you. Jake was this bumbling mess of adoration as soon as he found out that yes, you were _the _Dave Strider, movie director.

But at least they were harmless. You eyed the pester window before finally typing in tipsyGnostalgic and hitting enter.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at 21:01

TG: yo  
>TG: i assume this is roxy<br>TG: sup

TG: the one and oly!  
>TG: * holy<br>TG: lmao * only  
>TG: i heard fom janey your dirks broher<br>TG: * brother

TG: the one and oly

TG: lol so you finadly decided t scope ot my hawt piece of r lalonde ass

TG: in not so many words but you get the picture  
>TG: making sure my lil bro isnt passing his address out like candy<br>TG: because i think one time of stopping him from getting kidnapped by bandits is enough

TG: omg did he raelly?

TG: it was more like this kid at dirks day care invited him over  
>TG: and the kids mom thought it was alright<br>TG: so i show up and i find out he went home with some lady  
>TG: its like shit kid<br>TG: turn down the swag  
>TG: too young to be getting more bitches than me<p>

TG: lmao!  
>TG: youer rly cool omg<br>TG: youre not as mean as dirk says you r

TG: oh really  
>TG: so he speaks about me<br>TG: im honored

TG: just complians  
>TG: its rly pathetic tbh<p>

TG: i see

TG: hes moistly just all angtsy ovr you never being around  
>TG: * oh my god moistly<br>TG: * mostly!

You leaned back in your chair, listening to Dirk play his video games in the living room. It actually felt really refreshing to speak to someone so casually. Either it was crazy lawyers who rarely made sense with their psychotic bullshit, uptight businessmen who looked down their noses at you, interviewers with their fake smiles and scrutinizing eyes, or spoiled actors who were more interested in each other than the director. Or Dirk, who either gave you snark or completely ignored you.

TG: but from what ive heard you know what hes going through

TG: yeah i geus  
>TG: * guess<br>TG: buuuuut i think he nedes to deal wit it  
>TG: i mean obviouzly you n my mom gotta do wat you gotat do<br>TG: an its jsut the hand he wsa daeltan hes gotta maek the mos of it  
>TG: * dealt adn<br>TG: * nad  
>TG: * fuck it<p>

TG: well  
>TG: thats actually pretty mature of you<p>

TG: thx

TG: i have a plane to catch soon  
>TG: but keep an eye on dirk for me<p>

TG: of cousre!  
>TG: hes liek my best friend<br>TG: gota keep his ass n line  
>TG: don worry dirks bro i m on the caes!<p>

[+]

By the time Dirk was 17 and designing robots for some Japanese company, you'd spoken with Roxy more times than you had originally planned. At first, she just filled your pesterchum, whether or not you were offline, with walls and walls of text, sometimes updates on Dirk, but mostly just various things she felt you needed to know; things about her mom, reasons you should actually think about a collaborative project with Ms. Lalonde, things she thought about your movies, and occasionally a tiny slip up where she mentioned her feelings about Dirk.

Slowly you started responding more and more. It started as thank you's and how is dirk's before gradually moving on to how was your day's and what do you think about's. Obviously Dirk knew there was something going on, because he increased his sarcasm to almost painful levels. More often than not, any conversation between you two ended with him insulting you, jabbing at your sexuality—or lack thereof—and even stooping as low as to imply you didn't care about him.

Without many other people in your life, you'd turned to Roxy, who you would go as far as to call her your friend in your mind. She consoled you, telling not to worry, Dirk cares about you, he just needs time, et cetera et cetera.

As the frightening age of 40 loomed over your head, you bumped into none other than Rose Lalonde at what you planned to be your final movie premiere. She was witty, sharp-tongued, and continuously attempted to pick apart your mind. Yet you still found yourself speaking with her at the after-party, and before you knew it, it had been three months since the two of you had first started speaking and you both already had plans to make a movie out of her book.

When the pictures started to circulate in the paper of you two at the after-party, Dirk glared at you with betrayal any time he entered a room you were in. Roxy, on the other hand, was practically foaming at the mouth with excitement. She filled an entire pesterchum window going over every tiny detail of the book before finally you calmed her down with promises of reading it before you read the script her mother was pulling together.

[+]

When they turned nineteen, the movie was finally released. For the second time in his life, Dirk wanted something from you.

"Can I go?"

You had looked from the TV, your signature aviators still somewhere in your bedroom. You stared at him with shock.

You could tell he narrowed his eyes and winced, as if it physically pained him to ask such a simple thing of you.

"Can I go to the premiere?" He repeated, crossing his arms.

"Why?" It was all you could think of to say, the only word your lips could form.

He sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. "Because Roxy's going and she's my best friend and it'd be cool to finally meet her. And I also promised Jake to get him as many celebrity signatures as possible."

You glanced back at the TV, some news program, as if some news reporter with fake hair and too much make-up and a smile made of botox could give you the answer.

"Uh. Yeah. Sure."

He simply nodded and turned around, returning to his room.

A week later, you were both dressed up in your finest at the New York premiere, him in an orange dress shirt and black pants, you in your usual red suit and white bow tie.

Getting inside was a hassle, but Dirk seemed to glow under the photographers and interviewers' attention. You answered for him while he stood there, smug, listening as you told them all about his work and how intelligent he was. You wondered if he ever read of your interviews, because you weren't saying anything new.

Just as you finally got inside, you heard an excited shriek and after a flash of pink, you realized your brother was no longer beside you. Turning around just as Rose moved to greet you, you figured out your brother had been knocked a few steps back by Roxy. While her mother was elegant and classy for the occasion, with a purple and black dress with gold details, Roxy looked like she was heading to a concert, wearing a hot-pink sleeveless dress with sequins everywhere.

She had her arms around his neck, and he wrinkled his nose as she planted a kiss on his cheek, all the while babbling about finally getting to meet him. However, after a moment, he placed his hands on her lower back, which was the Dirk Strider equivalent of a hug.

After the greetings were completed and Rose and you finished up the last of the pre-movie interviews, you all headed into the theater. Roxy and Rose immediately swooped forward to get first pick of the seats, the two of them discussing the book and Roxy asking if Rose thought the movie represented the book well. You glanced at Dirk to see how he was taking things, only to realize that by the slight tilt of his head and what you could see of his eyes from that angle, that he was staring at Roxy.

More pointedly, Roxy's ass.

He glanced up just as you narrowed your eyes slightly at him, and he almost seemed shocked for a split moment. However, he played it off, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to call him out on it.

You made sure to sit between him and the Lalondes.

[+]

The reception was the kids' true debut. Dirk immediately moved into the crowd to charm the signatures out of the celebrities while Roxy snuck off to presumably locate the alcohol. Rose and you did the usual thing expected of you, made small-talk with celebrities and the Very Important People. Speeches were made, food was eaten, and as the time drew closer and closer to midnight, you were tasked with the responsibility of hunting down the children (although by now they were at that age where they were a bit too old to be called as such) while Rose headed outside to have the cars brought around to the front.

You didn't really try to hunt them down. You didn't really need to. Within moments after Rose had left, you noticed them slipping out through a different door.

Eyes narrowed, you immediately followed after them, and by the time you found them they were already lip locked. They immediately broke apart as soon as they saw you, and for a moment you simply stood there, arms crossed, Roxy babbling excuses while you stared Dirk down.

He stared back, and you wondered if he was doing this to spite you.

You'd kick his ass if he was.

Roxy fidgeted when you finally led them back to the front of the building, where Rose was discussing something or another on her cell phone. However, you didn't say anything to Rose just yet, and instead simply bid them good night before getting into your car.

You waited until you were a quarter of the way to the hotel before speaking up.

"What the hell was that?"

He continued boredly staring out the window. You noticed how he had to stretch out his legs, the bottoms of his shoes reaching the back of the passenger seat.

"None of your business."

"Bull shit. It's at least 120% my business."

You watched in the rear view mirror as he snorted, moving to lean against the seat, arms crossed, staring down your reflection. "I wouldn't be surprised if it completely passed your notice, but I happen to be 19. And here in America, the age where you stop being called kid brother and start being called an adult has already long gone."

You slammed the brakes, which seemed to startle him from how wide his eyes were, bright orange irises visible now that his shades were askew.

"What the hell was that?!"

"Funny, is there an echo in here? Has a bit of a delay." You turned around, not even caring you were on the side of the road, car still running. "You do realize she has liked you since she was 14."

"Pretty sure that's also not your business."

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, leaning against your seat and staring out the windshield. "Are you doing this to spite me? To rub it in my face that I'm useless and that you have to go around breaking hearts just to figure things out?"

For once, you found him without a response.

"Because that's not right. I swear, I know I didn't raise you much, but from what I did do, I raised you better than that."

"Well what the fuck am I supposed to do? I don't have parents to ask, I don't have teachers, I have very few friends, and the person I speak to most is a copy of my brain. It's the only thing I can do, Bro. Figure things out for myself. Just like I always have."

You scowled at the road, hands balled into fists in your lap. "It's not that I don't want to be there for you-"

"Bull fucking shit. We both know you have enough in savings to keep us afloat for years, and I can take care of myself."

You turned around, taking off your shades and glaring at him. "You're nineteen, Dirk. You shouldn't _have _to take care of yourself. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do? Everything I do know you figured out during elementary school. What else am I supposed to do? I know I'm not around but maybe I'd be around more if you'd stop pushing me away."

He stared back at you, his gaze steady and his face frozen in grim determination. "Can we go back to the hotel?"

"No, Dirk, we are going to have this discussion and-"

"Bro, can we _please_ go back to the hotel?"

"Dirk if we put this off we know for a fact that-"

"If you don't drive back to the hotel right now, I'm moving out as soon as we get home."

You two simply stared at each other for a few moments, the air tense as you both waited for the other to give up. You knew this was a test. He was making you chose between forcing your way to resolution and losing him, or possibly losing the chance for closure but keeping him around for a little while longer.

And you didn't know which one he wanted you to pick.

Finally you gave up, every failed social interaction between the two of you weighing down on you. You moved the gear shift back to the right gear and started driving again, eyes focused on the road. You glanced up at the rear mirror and saw him slouching, legs too long for such a cramped space, eyes staring out the window and pointedly ignoring you.

[+]

**A/N: So if you're reading this that means you're actually interested in why updates have been so slow. It's a lot of reasons: my ADD has kicked in far worse, I got into a relationship where I felt unworthy of writing, I got out of said relationship, I got into a new one, I haven't had time with a lot of home things going down, I've been sick, I haven't had the resources, I was waiting on updates on Homestuck before working further on the Alpha trolls, etc etc.**

**Basically, there's been a lot of shit going down and it's been fucking with my attention span and desire to write, but now I'm forcing myself into it.**

**So yeah. Thank you all of you who stuck around waiting, and may I promise this will hopefully never happen again.**


	10. ANGR ISSS

**A/N: (updated) There is in fact slight differences in here. If you'd like to reread, then go for it! The plot remains basically the same, however.**

**Also, please note, that this is an "alpha" chapter. The families are more broken up; Jake/Jade aren't related to Jane/John like they are in the "beta" chapters, and Rose/Roxy aren't related to Dave/Dirk. Also, shitloads of Humanstuck.**

**Warnings: cursing, John/Dave, one-sided Eridan/Everyone, one-sided Caliborn/Dirk, Meenah/Aranea, implied Calliope/Jake, Dirk/Jake. So much shipping, when in reality it's not even that much.**

**(NOW EDITTED TO BE CANON!)**

10  
>ANGR ISSS (Part 1)<p>

[+]

Dirk glared at the pair of sunglasses in his hands. AR had contracted a virus, and Dirk had been working on fixing AR, ever since he had gotten home from school. And it was dark out by now.

What he couldn't understand was how the hell the damned thing had gotten through his usually impeccable anti-virus program. Even AR, from the garbled mush he continued to spew each time Dirk turned him on, seemed to not know what had went wrong.

He set down AR as gently as he could before kicking the wall under his desk and growling in frustration. It took all his effort combined to keep from simply flipping the damn desk over—that would be a serious mistake. For one, AR was on it, and if anything got damaged, Dirk might lose vital data, important to restoring the artificial intellect to his former self. For another, his laptop and various wired in hard-drives were sitting precariously close to the open window.

Dirk was frustrated, frustrated with himself for somehow fucking up his programming and leaving a hole in AR's defenses; frustrated with Bro for buying them a penthouse apartment and making it impossible to throw things out the window without having to go down flights of stairs to retrieve them again; frustrated with whoever the fuck had infected AR.

He had his head in his hands, fingers switching between pulling his hair, and digging his nails into his scalp, when he heard the tap on his door.

Dirk groaned and leaned back in his chair, head tilted backwards to just barely see his door, his neck already beginning to ache from the awkward angle. He had forgotten Bro was having some stupid meeting with his lawyer and his agent about some movie deal.

And his older brother didn't knock.

Seconds later, the door swung open. Dirk could barely hear Dave and Ericardo speaking, meaning the meeting had been moved from the living room to the kitchen at some point.

One hotshot lawyer, Miss Teresa Pyrone, stood in his doorway, leaning on her cane. Her clipped, sleek brown hair was still at it's usual messy shoulder cut. She wore a simple, black sweater dress and teal tights. Dirk couldn't see her shoes. She was leaning on her dragon cane, the lighting hitting her red shades at an angle that hid her eyes from him, a trick she had probably learned to intimidate those in court.

Not that she had gotten much court action recently. As of late, it had been months since anyone had attempted to sue Mister Big-Man Director Strider for copyright infringement, making references to trademarked items or using songs in his movies without paying royalties. Even Betty Crocker Corp. hadn't been on his tail lately.

Maybe everyone was finally learning that when the offender's lawyer can smell guilt from a mile away, she can and will dig up every single thing you've done wrong until you back down.

Teresa was cool like that.

"Dirk." She sounded stern. He bet she used this tone in court, probably when she asked a question she had untouchable evidence to back up. "Did you just punch the wall?"

"Nope." He continued to stare at her shades defiantly. He crossed his arms on his stomach, boredly watching as she began to roll her fingers atop her cane's dragon head. It seemed to be staring him down as well.

"Then I suppose a bear made that hole in the wall?"

_Does broken plaster have a smell?_

"No bears here."

"Did a rat colony learn how to create explosives?"

"That'd be pretty bitchin'."

She sighed. He grinned. It'd been a while since he had held out longer than Teresa in one of their little games of endurance. In record time, too. _That meeting must be pretty serious._

"What made the hole in the wall, then, Dirk?"

"I kicked it."

He watched as her eyebrows dropped down and her eyes narrowed. Dirk was happy she was blind. He didn't really want to go showing just anyone that he didn't have his shades on.

"Dirk, Cool Kid has told me about some of your little outbreaks, and I can understand that! My roommate in college had Kleptomania and any time she got caught, she'd throw a temper tantrum." _Thanks for comparing me to a thief. _"But you have to understand that not everything is going to go your way in life. Despite what people in my profession work all day doing, the world is not fair."

"Yeah, but-" She switched her cane to her other hand.

Her left hand.

Her _I-Have-A-Trump-Card-That-Will-Kick-Your-Ass-So-I-Would-Suggest-You-Stop-Digging-Your-Hole-Deeper-And-Shut-Up-Now _hand.

"As you know, Dirk," she grinned as she continued, "your brother hired me for one reason: to tell him what is fair, what is legal, what is frowned upon, and how to do those things in a way that doesn't get him thrown in jail or makes him lose money. But I am also a consultant. Not in stupid Amporan's way, to figure out which actresses are hottest and cheapest or whatever; no, I'm not an agent. I listen to him when he talks about an issue he has, and try to find him a solution that works out for everybody."

Dirk was pretty sure his heart was taking a tour of his organs, sinking further and further into his stomach, like a boulder dropping into a pond of jello. He didn't like this trump card. He _never _liked Teresa's trump cards. Especially when they were directed at him.

"And," she went on, "he gave me three options when it came to your anger issues. Continue ignoring you. Send you to some camp or school designed for delinquents. Or get you counseling." She kept that innocent grin on her face, as if she were discussing a recent vacation from Hawaii.

"And?"

"And I told him to let you pick."

Dirk narrowed his eyes, finally swiveling his chair around and facing her. He noticed she was wearing red converse. He wondered if it was another attempt to get in Bro's pants. _Even though I'm blind, I totally accidentally happened to end up wearing shoes in your favorite color, a pair you happen to also own. What a co-inky-dink._

"Bullshit."

"Oh, but it's true. He doesn't know I'm telling you this; he sent me in here to ask you what's wrong and try to comfort you. But Dirk, we're alike, and you know that." He did have to admit that. She was incredibly smart for a blind lawyer who licked all the evidence and picked cases based on instinct. It was intriguing to play mind games with someone who understood them as much as he did. And they both could be snarky, although her's was more heavy-handed. "And I know that you don't want me to tell you 'there there, it'll be alright, we'll get you a pony and some ice cream for dinner.' You want me to give you something to distract you from your current situation.

"Well there you go. I just gave you a brand new puzzle. Enjoy it, Dirk. I can't wait to hear which answer you think is best."

She gave him a genuine smile then, with all of her teeth showing, her cheeks reaching her eyes and pushing her glasses up a little. Dirk figured he could've been friends with her, if she were his age and less frightening. If she were less skilled with words and had less experience dealing with liars, thieves, and other lawyers, she probably would've been a pretty cool chick. And it was obvious that through Dave, she at least cared for Dirk a little.

"Yeah. Thanks, then."

She turned to leave, her hand grabbing the door knob to pull it shut behind her, before she paused. "Oh, and Dirk, leave the shades off more often. Orange crème soda tastes much better than black licorice. I keep trying to get Dave to do the same, but you Striders are more stubborn than Lavinia when it comes to her ridiculous clothes."

With that, she shut the door.

He narrowed his eyes. She may be one of his friends' mom, but he disagreed with Teresa. Lavinia had some pretty bitching digs.

[+]

During the weekend, Bro confronted Dirk. He even took off his aviators, probably playing fair since AR was still out of it. And it just felt wrong wearing AR when he wasn't online. It was like taking your comatose best friend onto a roller coaster. He was there in form, but he wasn't _actually _there to enjoy it.

His red eyes bore into Dirk's orange ones, and yet again he wondered how crazy their dad's genetics must've been if his, mixed with your brown-eyed mom's, made orange and red. "So, Dirk, I've noticed that you've been a bit...exasperated, recently."

Dirk smiled slightly, leaning back. "Furious?"

Dave's lips quirked at that. "Enraged."

"Aggravated."

"Ferocious."

"Violent."

"Props to that one. Perfect definition right there." But the tension was gone. Dirk felt like discussing this would be a lot easier than if his Bro didn't act like he did when he fired an actor. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, you've been losing your cool. And it has got me concerned. I mean, my lil bro turns into a dragon every time something even slightly pisses him off. He burns down villages, eats children, and demands virgin sacrifices."

Dirk rolled his eyes.

"And I mean, what am I supposed to do? The only virgin I got left is Ericardo, and I am pretty sure you don't want him."

"Too far, Bro, too far."

He smirked, but it immediately disappeared as he returned to Serious Business. "Dirk, whether or not I'm around much to say so, I care about you. You're mini-me after all, and we're all we got left. But it's hard to want to stick around when any time the power goes out, you start breathing fire."

Dirk kept his lips sealed. He wasn't about to try to defend himself. Even he didn't really understand why he blew up so easily.

"Now, I've come up with three solutions. Each one involves you embarking on a magic, personal journey that will be riddled with epiphanies and swooning damsels and angry trolls. Quest one is just you. Naturally, I'll be on your side, ready to dish out any power-ups or armor upgrades you need. Kind of like that one hot chick from the Thieve's Guild who always runs out of gold before you can sell her all of your potions and weapons, but still always manages to ha-"

"Bro, do I have to give your nerd-ass a swirly or are you going to cut the monolog short any time soon?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "Basically, quest one, I'm here to get you anything you need. But you're going to be working out this problem on your own. Quest numero dos, you get to trade me out for a sweet, bitchin' wizard. He's gonna be able to read past all your bull shit-" _funny, since _this_ is all bull-shit, _"-and be able to pull out exactly what's the issue. He'll kind of be like a Seer. Except without the girly title. I can't hear Seer without thinking of those frou-frou Twilight wizard novels the Lalonde chick writes. The guy in that was a seer, right?"

Dirk snorted. One of his best friends happened to be the daughter of said 'Lalonde chick.' And from how often she babbled about it, _no_, the guy was not a seer.

"Anyway, quest two means you get a sweet wizard who will be able to ignore the crap and use his magic powers to stir up some answers. Quest three, you get kidnapped by bandits except not really kidnapped because you secretly set yourself up for it. They give you to a queen, who demands ransom from your Bro here to help take care of you. The evil queen tells you what to do, whips you into shape, and the only way to leave is if you find the calm within you and be quiet and peaceful enough to sneak out."

Dirk was pretty good at reading through Dave's crap. He recognized his brother's style, the way he lied or spoke to get what he wanted. And from what he could tell, it seemed like Dave didn't really want to send him away.

Dirk was positive he could solve any problem thrown at him; especially one inside of him. Whatever was broken in his brain, whatever rusty gear started kicking up a racket every time Dirk got a little pissed, he could fix it.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but he looked Dave in the eye.

Such a thing was a rare occurrence, for the two Striders to look each other in the eyes, discussing something serious. Because Dirk usually had his shades. But he didn't. Because he had fucked up, and hadn't been able to fix AR.

It actually kind of hurt, how incredibly bitter the irony of it was. AR, the copy of Dirk's brain, was broken. And now something in Dirk's mind was glitching out as well. Except instead of random strings of gibberish and static and the ominous BSOD, Dirk was spewing expletives and throwing fists.

It seemed like Dirk wasn't capable of fixing _anything_ having to do with his mind, nowadays.

"Let's see what fabulous prizes lay behind door two, then." His voice sounded weak, even to himself. Dave simply nodded, pokerface in place, as he stood up. But Dirk knew why Dave wore shades, even if his reasons were different. His eyes were incredibly emotive. And in that moment, Dave looked sad. Like he knew how much it hurt Dirk to not be able to fix something for once, something that he should've known—and always prided himself in knowing—like the back of his hand.

[+]

On Monday, Dave went into the school with Dirk. Although Dirk was used to having a bit of a popularity bubble in the hallways, with his fancy status as the kid brother of one of the most famous of directors, it was a bit unnerving to have everyone move over to the sides of the hall and stare at you, as if you were an ambulance rushing someone dying to the nearest safe place.

Dave completely ignored them, although Dirk supposed he was used to the stares. He took his time, although Dirk supposed they had all morning to get this over with. Dave made his own path around the halls, following his instincts rather than signs or Dirk telling him which way the counselor's office was.

As Dave checked out the trophies beside the gym, Dirk noticed someone coming into the doors a little ways down. Normally, he would've easily ignored them, but it was hard to do so when they were dressed in bright reds and greens and was followed by the sounds of high fives and loud shouts of the word "radical!"

He slipped away from Bro while he was distracted, walking over to Lavinia with his hands in his pockets. Following behind her was Carmine Vasquez and Marlene Leijuan. Although the two of them were more normally dressed in comparison to their flashy counterpart, the two combined made for a very loud duo. Lavinia was wearing a bright green dress and candy-apple red jeans underneath, clunky red sneakers on her feet and several elastic and homemade bracelets with phrases like "I 3 BOOBIES", "Carmine for prez!", "Vasquez Peixes" decorating her arms.

Marlene was more simply dressed, with an green sweater vest and a simple white collared shirt on top of olive green bell bottoms, dark black slip-ons peeking out from underneath the billowing hems. Her hair was as messy as it always was, but it always was messy in that kind of curly chaos type of manner, rather than looking like she rolled out of bed without brushing.

Carmine, dressed in his usual dark grey skinny jeans hiked-up Urkel style and tucked in baggy t-shirt that was far too large for his small stature, added with his pale skin, bright red hair, and crazy splatter of freckles, made Carmine look extremely out of place. While Carmine's white irises remained focused on Marlene, or 'Mary' as he kept calling her, as he babbled on about the social structure of the school, Lavinia's face lit up upon seeing Dirk. "Oh hey, Dirk! Did I ever tell you about-"

"CANNY!" Carmine immediately shut his mouth, a sneer forming on his face as he turned heel and immediately headed off away, Portia and Marlene following after, the former scuttling behind clutching a red turtleneck, the latter giggling to herself about shipping, her fingers excitedly flexing and twitching as she half-formed sentences before moving onto a different thought. However, Dirk's eyes remained mostly on Lavinia, who was watching the scene with a soft smile on her face and an amused spark in her eyes.

Even with his guard up, it was kind of hard to not ogle her. He studied the subtle shifts in her facial expressions as her ears and eyes picked up the changes in the environment around her. "Yeah, I think you might of texted me about it last night. You probably did it in your sleep," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "Congrats." He hoped he was giving the right reaction for whatever she wanted to tell him.

Her eyes lit up behind her glasses and she smiled at him. "So I heard through the rumor mill, aka my mom, that your dad is here because you-"

"Hey, Lavinia," he interrupted, not wanting her to go on, pretending he hadn't heard her start speaking. "You know what I found? This sweet pair of anime shades like mine, only red. Obviously I avoid the red pairs because they're based off of Kamina, but hey they were like, ten cents on eBay. So I decided you might want a new pair of rad shades, only these are hella more ironic since. You haven't seen the anime."

It was a bit tiring having to carry around materials to prevent rants about defeating two dragons in Skyrim at once, or kick flips, or the sexual tension between her and Carmine that neither of them seemed aware of. She immediately grinned, the same toothy grin as her mother, before holding her palm out. Just as the shades passed hands, Lavinia trying on the new pair with wide eyes and an awe-filled smile, Dave sidled up to them.

"Hey, Lavinia. Sup?" Dave asked, giving Dirk a look that clearly asked if there was something he needed to tell him, while holding up his hand for a high-five. Dirk simply shook his head as Lavinia grinned and slapped her palm against the elder Strider's.

"Hey, Dave! I heard you have a new movie deal coming out."

"Oh, through the rumor mill?" Dirk wondered if it was an inside joke he was missing out on. He looked away from them in hopes of containing the anger he felt for being left out of something.

"Who else?" She grinned. "Anyway, I better go chase Carmine down before he pees his pants in offense of someone using a 'racial slur.' "

Dave nodded, grinning, before looking back at Dirk once they were out of Lavinia's hearing range. "So, for the twentieth time, there's nothing between you two?"

Dirk glared up at Dave, and it felt weird to openly show how angry he was, without shades to hide behind. Even Dave looked a bit startled. "For the twentieth time, will you stop projecting your own issues with Teresa onto my friendship with Lavinia?"

Dirk turned away as Dave's eyebrows furrowed together. He didn't want to know if it was from confusion or disappointment.

"Counselor's office is this way. I want to be able to finish this up before first period starts."

[+]

While Dirk knew the way there, he had never stepped inside the counseling center. Never even met the counselor for his name group, L-Z.

What he found, startled him. Somewhere, it had slipped his mind that Carmine's dad worked for the school. He had never laid eyes on the man.

With his wild jet black hair, piercing red gaze, and near-white skin, he looked like a kid had tried to color him in, only to discover they didn't have any skintone or eye colors. The dark bags under his eyes didn't match how tense and energetic the man seemed, if how loud and obnoxious he spoke was anything to go by.

"Oh, god," he moaned as soon as he saw Dave, "not your sorry ass again. Dammit, what's it this time, fuckass? Seduced some fucking broad in Sweden, need me to work my calming magic to save your stupid Strider ass again?" While it pissed Dirk off to listen to someone talk about his brother like that, Dirk couldn't help but be a little amused by how animatedly the counselor talked, his hands gesturing wildly with every word. "Please, tell me. I will slit my wrists right now and bleed from every possible fucking orifice just to never have to see your disgusting face again." Dave sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, smirking.

"Nice to see you too, KK. I see you're still jealous Teresa came to work for me instead of you. If it's any condolence, I don't think you would've made much of a producer."

"We both fucking know that you are the most sorry damn excuse of a director, and human being, to walk this earth. If I had been the doctor to deliver you, I would've tossed you out immedifuckingly, because if there is any piece of shit compiled of bones, organs, and blood more revolting than you, than by all means, fucking show me." By this point, the counselor was baring his teeth at Dave, gripping this edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles seemed to be almost blue.

"No way to speak to the man who's about to pay you, Carson."

"This is the guy who is supposed to be teaching me to manage my anger?" Dirk asked finally, eyes studying Carson out of the corner of his eye as he faced Bro.

"Oh, no, Dirk, I don't think you realize that literally all Carson is, is anger. He manages his; he just abuses it to the point where other emotions don't work with him. If anyone knows anger best, it'd be Vasquez over here."

Carson glared at them both, narrowing his eyes. "Underneath all that bullshit, I think I detected a compliment."

"Give the man a prize." Dave turned to face Carson as he spoke the sarcastic jab. "Listen here, Karkles. While I'm not going to apologize for hiring Teresa when I knew you wanted her on your case—innuendo intended—I _will _give you kudos for the damned good job you do at making everyone's ears not only bleed, but also somehow using that power to turn the angriest of teenagers into kids like Carmine."

"Oh, low blow, Strider. You don't seem to realize how fucking often I deal with report cards. I could write odes about how dammed pathetic your kid is., if we're bringing our children into this."

Dirk clenched his jaw, but Dave shook his head. _Not worth the trouble._

"Friendly banter aside, my lil bro and I need your help and I know you're the only man for the job."

Carson narrowed his eyes, but he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "Go on."

"It seems that, during the past few months, Dirk's started to lose control of his anger. He's punched or torn holes in the walls countless times, broken several dishes, flipped a table at least four times, and we've gotten the police called on us twice for disturbance of the peace from his cursing."

It was really starting to make Dirk want to leave, being spoken like that, but he knew if he let his frustration show, it would just prove Bro's point. Carson moved his eyes to Dirk, studying him.

It felt like hours before Carson finally nodded. "Tuesdays and Thursdays, seventh period. Sound manageable?"

Dirk fought back every twitch, every expression his face wanted to make. "Sure."

[+]

**A/N: Hey there FF. I think it's pretty obvious why I pulled this down, correct? It was a bit out of canon, really, and I was extremely frustrated that I had to go back to edit so much. I felt like I was under a lot of pressure to get everything canonized, but unfortunately that just added more onto my stress, and the stress aggravated my ADD, and the ADD made it hard to focus on work, and soon it just looped all around right back to the start. Thankfully, I got a review asking for an update, and I decided it was more important to provide something for my readers and that once I got it over with, it'd be a lot easier to get back into the habit of writing.**

**So thank you to those who haven't ditched me! I'll admit the chapter before this one, was in fact prewritten from way back when. But I can assure you, I'll continue writing, and maybe even stockpile some just so I won't have to be too concerned over updating.**

**Mwah mwah I love you all, my lovelies! Have a wonderful day because you all are perfect and deserve it xoxo**


	11. ANGR ISSS 2

**A/N: Hey guys, important important thing i have to state. I do writing commissions. If you're interested, send me an ask on my personal tumblr ( ranuncudahlia ), or check out the link for the price page on my profile! I need this money for various reasons, mostly for Christmas presents for my friends, as well as to buy me food and, if I get enough, a chest binder. I'd really appreciate it if you'd guys would think about it, or at least tell your friends. (It's all fairly cheap, too. And hey, you can even do gifts for friends for Christmas of their OTP or somefin!)**

**Written while roleplaying Dirk with a Roxy on trollplay. She was so fucking adorable like oh my god. (If you ever role-played with a Dirk that agreed with you that he is in fact a mutant vampire and was writing "friendfiction" while watching the Notebook, that was me hi I love you, you were very kawaii)**

**Anyway, the warnings are all the same as they were in the previous chapter, same plot notes, etc. etc.**

10 ANGR ISSS (Part Two)

[+]

The first Tuesday was a horrible day for Dirk. He had mostly bullshitted his way through Monday, but now that the first day of counseling had arrived, he felt helpless once more. No amount of clever wit was able to speed up time to get the damn thing over with, and he hated himself for that.

It didn't help that around every turn, his friends were heckling him from every angle. First hour was the easiest to deal with, a useless class period wasted sitting on the bleachers in Physical Education. For the most part he tinkered around with AR, hoping to at least prevent any more blue screens.

As second period came around, however, Dirk couldn't unravel the knot in his stomach, and while it had been a very long time since he last felt so, he felt like ditching. He felt foolish for wanting to pussy out like that; it wasn't a particularly tough class, after all. It was only a general art education class taken to fill a necessary elective in. However, he soon realized what the problem was as he stood in the doorway, bag dangling from one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. His eyes landed on the two-person desk he was assigned, skimmed over its smooth black surface, and met a bedhead of tawny red, leading to olive skin, a black t-shirt, bright red suspenders, and arms crossed with fingers curled in an ever-present clawing gesture.

Caliborn had his feet kicked up on the table, his chair tilting back at an incredibly precarious angle. He seemed to be having another one of his internal dialogs, if the sneer on his face and subtle movement of his lips was anything to go by. With a sigh, Dirk crossed the room and sat down next to him.

For the first thirty seconds or so, Caliborn seemed to not notice as his eyes remained glued on the teacher, as if daring them to come and speak with him while he was in such a mood. However, just as the bell rang to signal the start of class and he moved to dig a pencil and some paper out of his bag, Caliborn's bright red eyes met Dirk's.

"Well if it isn't Dirk Strider. I assumed you had finally learned that you cannot one-up me, who is so much more superior to you. Especially with how you weren't man enough to show your face in class yesterday."

Dirk sighed and pulled out some paper and pencils as well. He supposed Caliborn could pass as Carmine's much more tan...relative. They had the same hair, and kind of the same eyes if you pretended to not notice Caliborns feminine eyelashes. However, that's as far as it went. Caliborn and his twin sister Calliope had the androgynous thing going on: through what they wore, their voices, and which gender bubble they circled in on tests, it was generally asserted that Caliborn was male and Calliope was female. However, they both could easily pass as the other. Calliope's red curls were cut short, the same length as her brother, which would be considered long for a boy. They both had ridiculous eyelashes, a strong jaw, and a lean but built physique. On the days where the school required they wear class colors (for pep rallies, homecoming, and so forth), the two were nearly identical, the only noticeable difference being eye color.

Of course, there was never any need for someone to figure out which was which. The two were never in the same room with each other and made sure they had entirely different schedules. If they ever crossed paths, it certainly wasn't at school.

"I didn't surrender or any bullshit like that. My older brother made me talk to the school counselor."

Even Caliborn wrinkled his nose at that, before slyly glancing at Dirk out of the corner of his eye. "I bet you had to go because of how ridiculously inferior you are to your peers."

"What ever reasons I had for goi-"

"None of this habbadashary! I know what's true. I know everything."

Dirk rolled his eyes and sketched out a bit, the paper swiftly forming a vague collection of lines that barely passed off as makeshift blueprints for AR. "Whatever you say, man."

Naturally, Caliborn took that as his cue to set off on yet another monolog, his hands moving across his paper as if he weren't looking (which of course he wasn't) while he spoke about yet another one of his games with his sister involving 'complicated rules only "_we"_ understand.' Dirk managed to block out most of it, although none of it was anything new anyway. Several times, Caliborn slapped one of his papers on top of Dirk's, an illegible pile of multi-colored scribbles filling the page. Most of the time Caliborn tried to convince Dirk that clearly Caliborn was the best artist of the two, but it was hard to take him seriously when the closest he had to a self portrait was a few tangled red and green lines.

More than once Caliborn tried to drive his pencil through Dirk's hand. And punch his face. And pull his hair.

While none of this was out of the ordinary for Caliborn, and he had heard far more violent tales of the kind of things Calamity threatened and tried on others, Dirk still wanted class to end early.

[+]

Third and fourth period were thankfully quick, his mind focused on English and Calculus. However, this proved both a blessing and a curse, as lunch quickly rolled around.

As per usual, Dirk grabbed a lunch line burger and paid the two bucks for it, then ate it as he walked to the library. Someone somewhere would probably tell him eating it so quickly while walking was bad for his health, but Dirk didn't care. He had spent years as a kid watching Dave bustle out the door, sandwich in hand as he rushed off to some meeting or interview, and a habit built from so many years of example and experience was hard to break. He tossed the wrapper into the trash can placed by the door and wiped crumbs off his face before hesitantly stepping in, glancing around the library as the doors shut behind him.

Two more steps, slightly more confident, and then he found a sobbing blonde wrapped around his torso.

"Diiiiirkkkk you will nog belieb what happenened!" Roxy moaned dramatically, acting as deadweight when Dirk tried to take a step toward the computers. Nevertheless, he continued to drag her along as her arms slid to grip his waist from behind, her face buried into his shirt, just mere inches above his butt.

"Roxy," he asked, exasperated as he received a sympathetic look from the librarian. "Let go."

Roxy made a sound that was most definitely not an answer.

"Roxy," he murmured warningly. She sighed and let go of his waist, standing up properly as she wrapped her arms around his right arm.

She sniffled as he glanced down at her knees, which as he expected were red from carpet burn. "My favorif fanficton was delebed by the author." He wasn't sure if she had somehow managed to sneak beer into school (again), or if she was only slurring from her crying.

He tutted. "What a shame." Dirk attempted to walk towards the computers, but slowly and surely Roxy began to become deadweight again, dragging her feet and gripping his arm much more tightly.

She nodded and didn't speak until they were halfway to the computer area. Really, they would've been there already, but with each step Roxy became increasingly heavy, latched onto Dirk's arm and holding him back. "It wad the best Warriors fanviction I'b ever seen." Dirk simply grunted and continued to try to lug a fully developed fifteen-year-old girl across the room with one arm.

"Roxy!" A voice called, and Dirk glanced up at them the same moment Roxy let go of his arm, his entire weight suddenly thrown off balance. He stumbled a little as she bounded over, a little cheerily if Dirk might add, to sit in the seat next to the girl who had spoken. With one glance he recognized Calliope, her hands occupied with her tablet. Roxy threw her arms around Calliope, and lay her head on the slightly taller girl's shoulder. Calliope smiled apologetically at Dirk before mumbling soothingly to Roxy, something about fanart and original characters. From the pink bedazzled cell phone laying next to the keyboard and the cat themed backpack laying on the floor, Dirk guessed that this is where Roxy had been before she decided to sneak across the room and launch herself at him.

Dirk sighed and walked past them, sitting down instead at a different table, where Rufus and Holden sat immersed in a game of Yugioh. The usual group sat there, Dahlia boredly sitting there next to Miranda, Dahlia's chin in her hands as she watched. Miranda kept leaning forward and trying to give the two boys tips, while they both just ignored her. The only one missing was Arin, but with how immersed Miranda seemed to be in their game, Dirk didn't bother asking, and instead sat in his usual spot away from the girls and the game. He hastily got AR into his hands and began tinkering away, cashing in on his free time.

However, he only got as far as re-re-re-re-re-rechecking the circuitry for what felt like the 100th time, before thick arms slunk around his neck, almost in a chokehold, but not quite. "Kon'nichiwa, biggu otoko," Dahlia practically hissed in his ear. He rolled his eyes, setting down AR and sighing. He knew just enough basic Japanese from his anime and various trips to google translate to know what she was saying.

"I see you haven't yet given up on talking in what butchered Japanese you learn from your mother."

She scoffed and barely let go of him, letting her hands trail across his shoulders and neck as she moved to sit in the seat next to him. Everyone had already acquired the habit of not looking anywhere near her legs, as she generally sat with them spread. Added to her penchant of wearing "school girl" skirts, and you were just asking for trouble from her. But that was Dahlia, it seemed. She had a habit of messing with people's hormones for the fun of it.

"Nanishiteru?" she asked, gesturing to the parts lying in front of him, her chin in her hands once more, her fingertips slowly drumming across her lips. It probably drove some boys crazy, but it seemed more to Dirk that she was simply fighting off the craving for a cigarette. Nevertheless, unintentionally he crossed his arms across his chest in a subconscious gesture of 'I'm not buying what you're selling.'

"Just a personal project," he said stiffly. While he considered Dahlia a "friend," he didn't bother telling many about AR. It was too tedious to explain to so many. She narrowed her eyes at him, her boredom subtly shifting to curiosity.

"Sore wa himitsudesu ka?" she mumbled, her eyes moving to study the pieces carefully. He didn't understand what she had said, and maybe especially because he didn't understand, he swept AR forward back into his bag, careful not to break anything as he did so."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean, Dahlia."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, gesturing towards him as she spoke. "Is it secret?"

He felt it in the pit of his stomach. Dirk felt the tight knot begin to form, the tightness in his chest that felt as if his heart had stopped beating, instead inflating and filling every gap in his thoracic cavity, his mind going blank and empty with passionate anger. He couldn't place what had caused it, what made his entire self-control shatter into pieces, but he was angry. Without thinking, he stood up in frenzied anger, jostling the table slightly and knocking his chair over, Dahlia flinching and nearly falling out of her chair as she gasped at his sudden violence. Rufus and Holden looked up from their game in surprise, while Miranda stared at him with a smirk on her face. He slung his bag over his shoulder, barely thinking to be careful before heading in a bee line for the nearest door.

He could feel practically the entire library's eyes on him, and yet that only made him more angry. Dirk didn't know why, but he felt like they were judging him. He felt that the entire world knew he was broken, and they were only going to continue to crack vicious, snide quips about him.

He'd rather shoot himself than let that actually happen.

As he stormed through the halls, only partially registering where he was going, he slowly began to cool down. His furious speed-walking quieted to a slouched, steady pace, before finally he just collapsed against some lockers, the hallway otherwise abandoned. He slowly slid down until his legs were sprawled in front of him and his back was at an awkward angle that would hurt if he didn't move soon.

And that was when Dirk decided he didn't care.

He didn't care anymore that he was broken. He didn't care he couldn't fix himself nor AR, or that his cracks were spider-webbing towards his relationships.

He sat there, and simply wallowed in that feeling, because he was uncertain he'd be able to feel anything else if he tried


End file.
